Jumping the Apex
by BitchScaresMe
Summary: Arizona Robbins had never been a fan of sports. After she is dragged to a roller derby match by her over-eager brother, an interest is ignited in one particular athlete; a skater whom she only knows as "Torres". T for the time being, though the rating is certainly subject to change.
1. Chapter 1

**AN1: This is my first attempt at a Calzona fic, so please be kind! This is the first chapter of what could become a novel-length story, should feedback be positive/indicative of continued interest. I would like to give a huge, huge, huge thank you to my two betas. Enjoy, and review, please!**

**AN2: Also, I'd just like to clarify that I am aware that most derby girls have clever names. I did look for some to suit Callie, but they were all incredibly cheesy. I'd like a pardon just this once. I know for a fact that not everyone is super witty when it comes to their "derbified" nomenclature. Besides, Callie Torres is definitely cool enough to just go by her last name.**

* * *

Arizona Robbins' glacial blue eyes were fixed on the surface of her meticulously organized desk, surveying the abundance of study materials that she was yet to examine. Her pharmacology midterm was in two weeks, and the course material wasn't only painstakingly boring, but incredibly demanding of one's brain cells and memorizing ability. Combined with her other classes (pathology, physiology, and their respective labs), Arizona was vaguely concerned that she was about to surpass her brain's mental capacity. Her worry was fleeting, that inkling of self-doubt vanishing the moment she felt two hands on her, fingertips digging into her sides. Her eyes widened and she braced herself, her mouth opening ever so slightly, allowing a string of giggles and mild threats to pass through her lips.

"Tim!" The blonde squirmed, attempting to break free from her brother's tickling, but all efforts were futile. "I'm going to kick your ass," she warned, her voice laced with a combination of humor and feigned fury.

It didn't take much else. The older Robbins sibling took a step back, raising his hands up in surrender.

"What? I had to do something to snap you out of that trance." He shrugged his broad shoulders, offering his sister a dimpled grin. "You promised me you'd come out tonight, take a break from all this studying and play wingman." Arizona arched an eyebrow at him and folded her arms across her chest.

"You want me to be your wingman…at a Roller Derby, uh -", she paused, wracking her brain for the proper terminology.

"Bout," Tim offered, nodding his head enthusiastically. "Tough chicks are hot."

Unable to refute this claim, Arizona shrugged – and kept her predictions on the night's outcome to herself. Playfully pushing past her brother, Arizona navigated through her small apartment to check her reflection in the vanity mirror. After giving herself a once over, she smiled in satisfaction. She was slightly overdressed for the occasion, but she was hot. There was something amiss, though, and she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

Her eyebrows knit together as she stared at her own reflection, hoping that the answer would become apparent. Her nose crinkled slightly as she pursed her lips – until finally it hit her. Bouncing lightly on her toes, springing into action, Arizona leaned down and tugged open a drawer, grabbing a handful of cosmetics. Within five minutes Arizona had finished applying the make up that she so often neglected. She always preferred the natural look and felt as though she rarely needed help with her appearance. The sapphire hue of her eyes was only complimented by the eye shadow she had miraculously applied, lashes elongated by her mascara. She looked pretty damn good, if she dare say so herself. If Tim wanted to bring a girl home tonight, he was going to have to work for it. Arizona could bring it. Especially clad in a skirt that fell just above her mid thigh, a white shirt buttoned down to reveal a generous amount of cleavage, and wedges tall enough to strain her well-toned calf muscles with every graceful step.

Feeling particularly confident, she flipped her hair over one shoulder and sauntered out of the small vanity room before throwing a challenging smirk in her sibling's direction.

"If we're going, hurry up. And if we're late, you're buying the beer." This sentiment was all the encouragement Tim needed to grab his car keys and practically sprint to the front door, yanking it open and pulling his sister along with him. He had purchased the beer for their last three excursions and he wasn't about to pay for another round. There was no way in hell he'd give Arizona that satisfaction.

* * *

"Torres! That better be blocking strategies that you're thinking about. We don't have time for another existential crisis right now. Equipment check is in ten." Mark Sloan cast a weak smile in the direction of his best skater, Callie Torres – his concerned expression betraying the snark in his tone. She simply rolled her eyes, nodding in compliance, and pulled the ankle strap on her skate just a little bit tighter. She'd need all the stability she could get, and not just on the track.

"Got it. Now get out of here Mark. I'm already dressed. You missed the show." The slightly older man shook his head in mock disappointment and left the changing room – leaving Callie and a few of her teammates to their own devices.

Callie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply in attempt to ground herself. Tonight would be a tough bout. It was going to be challenge, even to a player of her caliber. And she needed a win. Her personal life had been bombarded with misfortune, from failed relationships to the abrupt emptying of her trust fund. The only constant in her life had been her team and the undiluted joy she felt after taking her victory lap around the banked-track. Callie Torres was a rock star, an enigmatic athlete in her own right; a little pressure wouldn't kill her. No matter how emotionally damaged she was feeling. She always played best under pressure, and it was often self-imposed.

Another steadying breath, and she was ready to go. Gracefully standing up, she glided across the tile floor of the changing room, pushing the door open and taking a few steps over the carpeted floor that lead to her team's bench. She quickly pulled her mouth guard out of the makeshift compartment created by her wrist and wrist guard, popped the purple protective device into her mouth and lined up beside her teammates, waiting for the routine safety check. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and she tried her best to ignore the anxiety that knotted her stomach, her aversion to performing in front of large crowds never failing to drive her crazy, even after a year of competition.

"Okay," she mumbled to herself – avoiding eye contact with the audience, consequently missing the set of eyes that were glued to her.

Bright blue eyes with dimples to match.

* * *

Arizona stifled a yawn as she watched each player line up. The referees were taking their time making sure everyone's protective gear was in order, and she briefly wondered how many of these women would end up with some kind of injury by the time the night was over. The crowd around her was buzzing with excitement, but she couldn't find it in herself to get deeply invested in any kind of sport. Her focus shifted from player to player, bouncing down the line of heavily stickered helmets until she fixated on one of the skaters. Craning her neck to get a better view, Arizona's eyes opened, her tired mood vanquished by the promise of one very, very good reason to get invested in sports.

"502," she whispered, reading the skater's number out loud. Her brother leaned to the side and bumped her with his shoulder.

"Don't even think about it," he warned.

The blonde scoffed, her eyes not once leaving the form of the player. Chocolate tendrils cascaded down over her shoulders, the richness of her hair only served to compliment her glowing caramel complexion.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied, her eyes continuing their descent down the skater's body. Just as Arizona's tongue moved along her bottom lip, a whistle was blown and the skaters broke their formation. Some went to sit on the bench, while others lined up on what Arizona could only assume was the starting line. There were five girls on each side and one player from each team had a star on their helmet. The mysterious number '502' was among them, sweeping her hair over one shoulder to reveal the name "Torres".

Another whistle blew, and the pack of girls took off in an all out melee; pushing, shoving, hip-checking, jumping and skating. Entranced by the violent athleticism of the women, Arizona found herself disappointed when the whistle sounded out two minutes later, signaling the first point-count, and the changing of the line up.

"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Tim asked, in regards to gameplay. Arizona simply shook her head.

"No idea…but I like it. And – we're so going to the after party." She grinned and settled in her seat, popping another piece of popcorn into her mouth. Arizona had never been a sports fan, but there was certainly a first time for everything.


	2. Chapter 2

**As I seemingly forgot, I feel the need to announce that I do not own these characters, they're property of Shonda and ABC. I'm just a puppeteer here. **

* * *

"Shit," Callie hissed as she struggled to execute her crossovers in such rapid succession that she was certain that her legs would tangle at any given moment and bring her to the floor with startling and devastating impact. If she had the time for introspection, she might conclude that her fear of falling was reflective of her personal life. Moving too quickly for comfort, only to trip and land flat on her face, or on her ass.

There was no time for self-pity or psychoanalysis. With only forty-six seconds remaining, Callie struggled to maintain her status as lead jammer. The Rainy City Rollers, her team, was down by six points. It was up to her to pull the team ahead, which would start their season off with an enviable victory. She sucked in a large gulp of air, her chest becoming tighter with each controlled movement.

Callie felt a hand on the small of her back, pushing her forward. She shot a quick glance over her shoulder and smiled appreciatively at her teammate, "Tacky Cardia". The contact sent a renewed sense of vigor through Callie, and she bent her knees, stabilizing herself whilst becoming a smaller target for the opposing blockers. With a lower center of gravity, Callie increased her movements and cut through the pack.

"Damn Torres! I'm gonna make you jam more often," Mark Sloan declared, a proud smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he followed the blurred form of his best friend while she skated around the track.

Had her lungs not been protesting, she would have vehemently advised him to never, ever utter those words to her again. Torres was built for power, not for speed, despite the fact that she reserved all of her assets for times likes these. If her team needed the best to pull them out of an impending loss, she would never fail to deliver.

Adrenaline coursed through her veins with each passing second, their prospective victory was well within reach, and it created a sense of hyper vigilance within her. Instinctively, Callie cut to the inside of the track and plowed into the opposing jammer, knocking her out of bounds, which further secured Callie's current jammer status. Her normally expressive eyebrows knit together as she focused. The blockers on her team had cleared a small pathway for her to skate through, and she increased her speed, cutting through the pack once more. Relief washed over her as she erected herself, eyes glued to the time that buzzed just a second later.

"Atta girl!" Mark bellowed, his deep voice overpowering the hushed cacophony that rose from the crowd.

Still unable to form a coherent sentence, Callie opted instead to take her moment of silence as an opportunity to internally apologize to her cardiovascular and respiratory systems for the short-termed abuse. Her heart was still thumping wildly in her chest, so she continued to skate around the track in attempt to return her heart to its regular rhythm. Placing her hands on her hips, Callie allowed her eyes to venture over to the spectators. In moments like these, her anxiety seemed completely unwarranted.

A she rounded the corner, the industrial lighting touched wisps of golden hair. Somehow, the normally unflattering light did nothing to drain the color, and her eyes were immediately drawn to a woman who sitting beside a handsome man with slightly darker hair. Brown eyes fell and locked with a pair of oceanic orbs. Callie's breathing hitched, words she didn't know she wanted to say lodged themselves in her throat, and she took a step forward. She cleared her throat and continued skating, discounting the occurrence as a mere aftershock of her exertion, and nothing more.

Her nimble fingers pinched the elastic fabric of her jammer "panty", and she pulled it off. Callie finally skated off of the track, the panty balled up in her hand as she approached the bench where her team had assembled for post-bout chitchat.

"Where's the after party, Tacky?" She inquired, her eyes sparkling with the promise of future debauchery. "I'm thirsty."

"For tequila?" The petite, but powerful woman countered, quite knowingly.

"Exactly."

"I don't know. It was on our flyer. I'm not your assistant," the Asian woman shrugged, thankful for Callie's ability to endure what she liked to call 'good-natured hostility'.

Callie simply nodded, and unclipped her helmet. "I'll make Sloan drive me. See you there," she paused as she passed another teammate. "You too, Medusa. See you soon. Good blocking tonight." Without another word, she disappeared into the changing room. For the first time in months, she couldn't stop herself from smiling.

* * *

Arizona's fingertips tapped percussively against the dark, aged, and questionably sticky wood of the table she had managed to secure upon entering an unfamiliar establishment known as Joe's Bar. Tim had been absorbed into the crowd that surrounded the bar, leaving Arizona to her own devices. Despite her body language, which was indicative of boredom, she was secretly grateful he had dragged her out tonight. As a first year Medical Student, she had abandoned the "free spirit" persona that she possessed in her undergrad years. She didn't realize it until now, but she missed letting loose. She missed challenging her brother, and she missed beer and the greasy food that often accompanied its consumption.

A soft sigh passed through her lips as she turned around on her stool, positioning herself towards the door. Familiar faces were funneling into the building; some still flushed and pink from the excitement. Arizona kept her eyes peeled, hoping to steal another glance of the ever-allusive "Torres" before the night ended. Each time a feminine voice rang through the door, she perked up slightly. It wasn't that she was smitten; it was the fact that she had eyes. Torres, number 502, filled out those tiny purple shorts better than any other woman on that track. Who wouldn't want another glance, or twelve?

"Beer's here." Arizona turned back around at the sound of her brother's voice, and quickly reached out to grab her mug.

"Thanks," she said, raising the glass to her lips and taking a small sip.

"Why were you staring at the door? You bored? Or are you looking for…" Tim trailed off as a string of boisterous, uninhibited, and amazingly infectious laughter cut through the air, directing his attention toward the entrance as one Callie Torres strolled in. "…her?" He finished, tilting his head in the woman's direction. Arizona turned and shifted on her stool.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she lied again, for the second time that night, and turned back around to sell her façade of nonchalance.

"You've always been a terrible liar," Tim teased, plopping down on the stool that was positioned across the table from Arizona. He paused a beat and looked around. "I guess the guy who owns this place sponsors the team. It's not too bad, and they just close down when the last person leaves. Seems like a pretty good deal to me." He shrugged, knowing that his sister was too distracted to comprehend, let alone care about his newfound knowledge.

* * *

Arizona eventually caved and began participating in the conversation that her brother so desperately wanted to have with her. He was always an approachable guy, and she wasn't surprised that he had acquired that much information while waiting for their pitcher of beer. People were put at ease by his very presence, and he had no qualms about striking up conversation with people he had never met before. Arizona had the same gift, but Tim's easy-going personality had always given him an edge with others. The laid-back gene skipped Arizona, and she was left with charm, and the inability to allow others to take the reigns.

There were no clocks in the bar. The siblings weren't aware of the time, and they didn't care. They had gone through three pitchers of beer, and Arizona was beginning to feel the warmth of the alcohol loosening up any residual tension. Her eyes would occasionally fall on the form of Torres, unable to keep herself away from the delectable sight of a beautiful woman with a smile on her face. She had tried to stop looking. Tim had caught her staring more than once, and the smirk that was plastered on his smug little face was driving Arizona insane. It wasn't until music erupted through the speakers that she hadn't noticed that she decided to glance at the dance floor.

Arizona checked out, dismissively raising her hand to her brother's face. "Uh huh. Hold that thought," she instructed, her eyes locked on the swaying Latina. Without another word, the blonde excused herself from her table and approached the dance floor. Torres seemed to catch the attentive stare that Arizona was throwing in her direction, and she smiled warmly. That was all Arizona needed. Her characteristic confidence took over, and she cut through the crowd of dancing patrons that had begun to fill up the dance floor until she reached Torres.

God, she was hot. It would require all of her self-control not to take the woman into the bathroom and kiss her.

"Hi," the taller woman said, her hips moving to the rhythm of the music. Damn, could she dance. Arizona stood still for a moment, watching the woman's hips. It was as though she could anticipate each chord, each thumping of the bass. Her movements alone were magical. Musical. Some other adjectives that Arizona was failing to recall were hanging on the tip of her tongue.

"Hi," Arizona finally replied.

"I'm Callie," the skater announced, her voice straining over the music, before she offered her hand to Arizona.

"I'm Arizona," she grinned, taking Callie's hand in her own.

"Great, now dance with me." It wasn't a question. It was a command, one that Arizona would never object to. Callie gripped Arizona's hand and tugged her forward, spinning her around and placing her hands on the blonde's hips.

In the back of her mind, Arizona registered the feeling of hands lingering on her hips, occasionally sliding up her sides, hiking the hem of her shirt up ever so slightly. She briefly wished she could turn around to see Callie's face as their bodies swayed in sync, but the thoughts were scattered as she felt hot breath on her neck, and a body pressed flush against hers.

This was much, much better than kissing a stranger in a dirty bar bathroom.

* * *

**AN: Thank you to everyone for all the feedback, it's greatly appreciated! Hopefully this is enough to keep you invested. There's lots planned for future chapters, and more Callie-centric parts coming up! **

**Once again, another thank you to my tumblin' betas. You guys rock. **


	3. Chapter 3

Callie took an experimental step towards Arizona, closing the remaining distance between them. Allowing her upper body to relax as their close proximity released the lingering tension in her arms, Callie's fingertips tentatively crept up the blonde's sides. There was no indication of protest, and she released a soft sigh of relief, unaware that she had been holding her breath in the first place. Her almond eyes briefly met the excited form of her best friend, who shot her a nod of approval. She rolled her eyes, diverting her full attention back to the task at hand; keeping Arizona against her for at least another song. Much to Callie's advantage, there were no intervals in between songs; they simply faded into one another, the tempo increasing with each passing second. The fast movements came naturally to Callie, music was in her soul, and even as a child she could feel the true impact of music on a visceral level, something she had always shared with her mother.

A thin veil of perspiration built on Callie's forehead and neck, her already glowing complexion glistened under the dim lighting of the dance floor. Her pulse had quickened, though she wasn't sure if that came as a result of the dancing, or the fact that a gorgeous stranger was currently moving against her, and had been doing so long enough for the crowd of other dancers to thin out, exhausted from the movement. The duration of the dance only served to give the skater extra confidence, and she leaned down, her lips dangerously close to brushing against her partner's ear.

"Having fun?" She husked, predicting that Arizona's answer would be similar to her own.

An arm snaked its way around the back of Callie's neck, drawing her down. Callie inhaled slowly, a sweet aroma wafting into her nose. She closed her eyes and allowed her olfactory senses to be consumed by the sweet, subtle scent of brown sugar and vanilla. It was a stark contrast to the alcoholic scent of the bar, and all things Arizona immediately overwhelmed her senses. Her fingertips tingled as they ran over the slowly erecting goose bumps on the other woman's skin, the music thumping in her ears, harmonizing the song that was created by the blonde's breathing. The familiar taste of alcohol lingered on her tongue, but it was complimented by something unfamiliar, a hint, a suggestion of how Arizona's lips might taste. The only thing she could do was close her eyes, certain that the sight of the woman would be too much for her. No boundaries had been drawn, but Callie was intent on remaining respectful to the other woman, something she couldn't promise if she didn't get a handle on herself soon.

The skater's stomach was in knots, her heavily lidded eyes fluttered open, just as a droplet of perspiration slid down Arizona's neck, pooling in the shallow depths that were created by her well-defined collarbone. Callie subconsciously licked her lips, still leaning down, even as Arizona's arm left her body.

"I'll take that as a yes," she finally whispered, even though the contact had been all the affirmation Callie needed.

She had missed this. Dancing with a woman. A woman's body was always sweetly contradictory, soft, no matter how firm. Their touch was always miraculously gentle, even when they were being rough. Their skin warm, even in the coolest temperatures. Mark could dance. He was a good dancer, but Callie had always reserved the best of her rhythmic talents for a woman. There was something about the way Arizona's hips mimicked the motions of her own that drove Callie wild. It was distinctly feminine, the ability to anticipate. The easy grace, the effortless sensuality – it made her feel electric. It slowed the outside world down, and it hushed the chaos that was so often wreaking havoc within her mind. Dancing with a woman, no, dancing with _this_ woman – felt right. Chemistry had never been her niche, but Callie could feel a reaction churning within her.

Heat was rising.

* * *

"Easy tiger. You're about to finish my…" a voice thick with amusement broke Arizona's concentration, and she quickly slammed the glass of beer she had been pulling gulps of alcohol from on the table before she smiled proudly at her brother. She pushed the emptied glass across the table and slowly seated herself on the uncomfortable bar stool, wiping the excess moisture from her upper lip. Tim stared at her and shook his head in mock disgust, only to be rewarded with a smug smile. Arizona had always taken comfort in the fact that her relationship with her brother was solid, and he'd never get mad at her for finishing his beer. If anything, he'd be impressed by her ability to hold her alcohol. Tim had utilized their teen years wisely, teaching Arizona the art of pacing and tolerance.

The blonde shrugged and avoided direct eye contact with Tim. "Sooo…" she trailed off, careful to draw the word out in a desperate attempt to redirect his attention to anything other than her insatiable thirst.

"You're probably really thirsty, considering you just got done having sex on the dance floor." Tim smirked, brotherly pompousness emanating off him so strongly that she was forced to face him – just to shut him up. Their eyes met, and Arizona's cheeks instantly became flushed. She covered her face with her hands and shook her head. "It's good that you're taking a break from all the action. You have to stay hydrated." Tim's words flowed out of his mouth conversationally, and the nonchalance in his tone drove Arizona mad. He was right, of course, despite the fact that Arizona would deny him the courtesy of knowing.

"I hate you," she sneered.

"You don't. But I'm bored. You were supposed to be my wingman tonight, and instead you left me in the corner dry heaving at the sight of you grinding…" he trailed off, his eyes glazing over in something that resembled fear. "…Grinding on that woman. That was supposed to be me, Arizona. And now I'm-" he paused and theatrically clutched his stomach as he faked a series of inaudible wretches. After a few seconds, he cleared his throat and continued his lament, "Now I'm scarred for life. My sister has more game than me. Do you know how terrible that is for me? I taught you everything you know and now-"

"Shut up. I get it, I get it. _Please_ stop talking. We'll go. Just let me say goodnight. "

* * *

Callie jumped spastically as a hand firmly connected with her ass. Her drink dribbled over the sides of her glass from the movement, and she quickly set it down to wipe her hands on her shorts. "Damn it, Mark." She growled, turning around to slam her hands against his obnoxiously broad chest.

"What?" He protested, struggling to maintain his guise of innocence. "I'm proud of you, Torres. You got out there tonight. You got down with blondie… and it was hot. You takin' her home tonight?"

The skater shook her head and leaned against her friend, supporting herself with his sturdy frame. She sighed – her body experiencing a maelstrom of feelings. Her limbs were heavy with exhaustion. Her muscles were tense and begging for some sort of recovery, but she couldn't bring herself to fully relax. Pulsing vibrations had been coursing through her veins since dancing with Arizona, sensations she had never felt before had crashed over her in waves that left her wanton and desperate need for…something inexplicable. "No, I just met her Mark, come on."

"You took me home the first night you met me. I didn't hear any complaints."

"Then you weren't listening hard enough," she jested, suddenly smacking him in rapid succession as her eyes caught the form of an approaching Arizona. "Now shut up, and behave. She's coming over here," she whispered harshly. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, Callie stood up straight and anticipated Arizona's arrival. She smiled, silently chastising herself for behaving like the awkward adolescent she swore she had abandoned after graduation.

"Hi," Arizona mumbled.

"Hey," Callie replied, tilting her head in the direction of the exit. "You heading out soon?" It was hard for her to mask her disappointment, though she'd understand if the blonde had to return home.

"Yeah. My brother – the guy I came with, it's past his bedtime and he's complaining. I just wanted to say goodnight." Arizona sighed, cursing her brother for spoiling her fun. "And thank you for the dance. It was um – it was fun."

The taller woman took a step forward, completely separating her body from Mark's, her eyes twinkling at the fresh memory of their dance. "I had a lot of fun too. You should come by more often. I'm here every Friday. We come after practices."

It was hard for Callie to assess Arizona's reactions to her invitation, the haze from the alcohol Callie had consumed coupled with her dance-induced infatuation had clouded her judgment, and she grew increasingly self-conscious.

"Maybe I'll stop by sometime soon then."

The Latina mouthed an "okay" but the words failed to vocalize as Arizona's brother grabbed the blonde by the wrist and tugged on it like a child.

"Well, bye!" Arizona strained to sound cheerful, and was instantly dragged out the door.

Callie felt deflated, and she quickly submerged herself back into the ranks of her team, and of course, her best friend.

"What the hell, Callie?" A collective inquisition startled the athlete as her friends shot her incredulous glances. "You go give that girl your number right now!" They shouted, hands pushing her in the direction of the door.

Callie huffed and scurried across the floor of the bar. She hastily snatched a napkin and a pen from the bartender, who smiled knowingly at her as she scribbled her phone number down. Swiping the material off of the bar's counter, she pushed her way through the exit. As if she realized the ridiculousness of her own situation, a strangled chuckle passed through her lips and she quickly turned to the left. Only darkness greeted her. There was no refraction of light against honeycomb locks, only an ominous fog. "Damn it," she cursed, ashamed of herself for believing that just once, things would go her way.

* * *

Laughter cut through the air. Callie's head snapped to the right, and there she was – stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, head thrown back as she laughed. It was hard for Callie to move for a few seconds. Tainting Arizona's moment of sheer jubilance seemed wrong, so she stood in waiting for Arizona to regain her composure. It didn't take long, and Callie allowed herself to take a few paces forward. "Arizona!" She hollered, waiting as the other woman spun around, mouth opened slightly in anticipation. "You forgot something," Callie continued.

The brunette's pupils dilated with expectation as Arizona drew near, and Callie steadied herself, struggling to remember her intentions. God, this perky blonde woman was distracting.

"What'd I forget?" Arizona asked, pulling her dance partner from her inner dialogue.

"Huh? Oh right…you uh – you forgot this."

Callie leaned down in attempt to ground herself, synapses firing and nerves humming with excitement. The lead that had once weighed her down was replaced by something feather-light, something ethereal. Leaning down was the only thing that would keep her from floating away, from retreating. Without realizing it, the fingers of one of Callie's hands had found Arizona's side, tracing the invisible lines they had made during their dance. "You forgot this," she said more assertively, pressing her lips against Arizona's in a slow, gentle kiss. As she stepped back, her free hand extended, palm up, offering the napkin to Arizona.

Wordlessly, the blonde picked up the parchment and studied it.

"I think that's everything, then." Callie announced, turning on her heel and walking back to the bar.

* * *

**AN: Sooo guys...what are we thinking? Will Arizona call Callie? Who knows. The next few chapters will establish the characters as something other than just "med student" and "derby girl". Thanks for reading!**

**PS. Reviews fuel my fire. Hint hint. **


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Hi guys! I'm sorry for making you all wait a little longer for this chapter. To make up for it, I made this one a little longer. Thank you so much for the reviews, keep 'em coming! They're encouraging. I received a couple "Ew Mark" comments. I'm sorry that you don't like him! I am a devoted fan of the Mallie friendship, but I understand that the majority of Calzona shippers don't share my love. I just wanted to warn you all that Mark will be popping up here and there, but...I promise you that he will not cause jealousy issues, baby daddy issues etc in this story. Thank you for the follows and the favorites and you're all amazing. **

* * *

Arizona was curled up on the couch that she and her roommate had recently purchased. He wasn't around to enjoy the fluffiness of the new cushions, but Arizona was enjoying the comfortable furniture enough for the both of them. Her iPod was connected to the stereo-surround sound that he had installed a few weeks prior, and the nasally, monotone voice of her professor bounced off the walls of the small apartment, filling the room with a detailed account of the evolution of pathology and its importance to modern medicine. The blonde wasn't exactly sure when it happened, but her eyes had fluttered shut and her thoughts had been completely dominated by the one thing she'd rather be studying. Or rather the one person. Callie Torres. The skater was all legs, and ass, and smiles. Arizona had always been an avid fan of breasts, but Torres' ass did not quit. And she was more than pleased with her observation.

A loud "BANG" startled her, and she sat up quickly, blinking furiously in an attempt to force her eyes to adjust to the light before the supposed intruder could reach her. She scrambled furiously to find something to defend herself with, falling short and clutching a freshly sharpened pencil in one hand. It didn't take long for Arizona to sink back down into the sofa, fumbling to hide her sad excuse for a weapon by tucking it behind her ear nonchalantly.

"This is how you're using my surround sound?" Her roommate scoffed.

"Nick! You're back early." Arizona beamed up at him and shrugged, her cheeks flushed with slight embarrassment.

"I know. I managed to catch an early flight back. Two early flights, actually. I guess I just missed you too damn much. And my surround sound, which you're abusing with whatever this sciency crap, is." Nick walked around the couch and plopped down, grinning as Arizona repositioned and placed her legs in his lap. "How's my girl? Tim emailed me last weekend and said he finally got you out of the library. Wanna tell me about that?"

The younger woman bit her bottom lip sheepishly and shook her head slightly, knowing that Nick would pry until she revealed whatever it was she was hiding from him. "I'll share my story if you promise to tell me how freakin' Africa was. You're there for two weeks and you're seriously asking me about my night at a dive bar with my brother, who totally sabotaged my game."

Nick couldn't help but laugh at her and the way her voice rose half an octave in frustration when she mentioned Tim. "You met a girl, didn't you?" He arched an inquisitive and knowing brow.

"I might have. It's probably nothing. She gave me her number and I…I might have stared at it every day since but I can't bring myself to call her. I have midterms and-and I have things to do. Important things. I have to study and –"

"And you have to go to the hospital to visit the sick kids, and you have to shadow that pediatric surgeon you made me contact for you. Blah, blah, blah." Nick placed his hand on her leg, squeezing it gently. "You need to relax. If you want to call this chick, you call her. If you want to pretend to be a mature, responsible adult about it – do it when exams are over. Reward yourself. As cute as you are, I don't want to see you sulking every day because you're running out of excuses to stop making yourself happy."

"I hate you when you're right," she stated.

"It'd be nice to see you have fun again. Just…not with a new girl every night. Leave some for the rest of us."

"Ass."

"Scaredy cat."

"Fine. I'll call her when exams are over. Just a few more days. I can do that."

Amusement etched Nick's features and he simply nodded, knowing that any further communication wouldn't be heard by Arizona – her mind was already in another realm, playing out the possibilities of calling this ever-allusive Callie. When Arizona set her mind to something, she did it. When she set her mind on someone, she did them. But something told him that this would be different. His best friend never froze up around women unless she knew they'd be an extended distraction, and not someone she could discard after a night of keeping him awake with excessive grunting.

Only time would tell.

* * *

Callie jumped back, her mouth falling agape as a low squeal rumbled from her throat. Her eyes fell to survey the damage she had just caused by dropping the very hot, very full pot of coffee. After a moment of silent grieving, she began her frantic search for paper towels, or anything that would hide and absorb the evidence of her crime. Callie had taken the job a few weeks ago, and she was still getting acclimated to their storage system (which made no sense to her, and probably never would). The normally stoic woman was whining in her isolation, stranded on her own island of spilled coffee. Thankfully she was alone and there was no one to witness her moment of weakness.

"Callie Torres, I know you did not just drop and destroy a brand new coffee pot. Nuh-uh. Because that would mean that I will be going without coffee until lunchtime, and I have all kinds of paper work to fill out. So you are going to tell me that that brown liquid pooling around your feet is an unfortunate and untimely loss of bodily fluids."

The mortified Latina whirled around upon hearing her name addressed by her very small, very intimidating coworker.

"Sorry Bail-…Miranda." Callie winced, embarrassed, ashamed, and slightly terrified under the scrutinizing lens of Miranda Bailey. "I'll buy a new one tonight. And I'll buy you a cup now," she offered weakly, clearing her throat in an attempt to regain composure.

"Uh huh. You better." Bailey smiled slightly, subtly teasing her coworker. "You know how I like it. I'll clean this up. Go get my caffeine before I change my mind."

The very humbled skater turned on her heel and quickly retreated, swiping her purse off of her desk and scurrying out of the office. Callie wasn't one to surrender so easily. She had always taken pride in her assertive nature. Her independence and innate strength had been wavering as of late, but her personal life had no affect on her feelings for Miranda. Tough as the tiny woman appeared to be, Callie had an inkling suspicion that the woman liked her, respected her, even. And the sentiment was returned whole-heartedly. Miranda was Callie's superior, and had been assigned to accompany Callie on any and all cases until she felt completely comfortable with solitary casework, and the woman knew what she was doing.

Callie had always recognized her lack of skepticism, as she was inclined to give people the benefit of the doubt, even when she knew they didn't deserve it. She was sympathetic, empathetic, observant. Miranda was all of these things, and more. Her ability to sift through other people's bullshit was something Callie aspired to learn – as her flaws had gotten her burned more times than she could count. She needed this job in more ways than one – for the skills, for the money, for her sanity.

The moment of uncharacteristic clumsiness had pulled her thoughts elsewhere, to a place she didn't want to go. It was just a broken coffee pot, but if she couldn't pour coffee, could she really thrive on her own? It was a stupid comparison, she knew, but the lack of caffeine was getting the best of her. Callie's decision to take this job had left her bereft of her family's support and financial stability, but it gave just as much as it took. Usually. Her career choice strayed away from her father's plans for her. The Torres' were business people. They were professionally ruthless and quickly monopolizing the hospitality industry. She wanted nothing of it. In her sophomore year of college, she declared that she wouldn't be stepping up to work beside her father in order to help those in need.

Displeased with his daughter's dream, he cut her off, financially and personally, leaving her alone with her passion. There was no power, no notoriety in the social work industry – but Callie tried not to care. Her passion was enough to sustain her (at least she hoped it would be). And now, here she was, frantically straightening out crumpled dollar bills and handing them to an under enthused barista as her phone's ringer beckoned her.

It was an emergent text from Bailey: **Get back here now, Torres. Bring the coffee. We need to go to the hospital. Possible parental negligence.**

* * *

Arizona's tongue moved against the roof of her mouth as her eyes scanned the chart that she was holding. Her eyes narrowed as she read the details of the particular patient's history, and she tried her best to ignore the lump that was forming in the back of her throat. The medical student knew that it was both a pleasure and privilege to be granted access to a patient chart, let alone be granted the opportunity to present the case to an attending, but the uncomfortable nature of the impending situation was enough to dilute any excitement that she reserved.

"Present the patient, Dr. Robbins."

"Joseph Stern, nine years old. Came in accompanied by a neighbor with dual tibia fractures after jumping from his tree house. Patient has a history of broken limbs. Vitals are stable, patient is coherent but allergic to penicillin and codeine."

"Have we called his parents?"

"Yes sir. They're on their way."

"And have we contacted DSHS?"

"I believe your resident made the call."

The attending nodded and proceeded to dismiss Arizona, taking Joseph's chart from her as she exited the small exam room. It was still up for discussion whether or not the young boy would require surgery, and she could only deduce that the decision would be made as soon as the parents arrived. It was not a good day for the youngest Robbins sibling, but she had to stick it out. If there was one thing Arizona needed to learn, it was how to properly compartmentalize her personal feelings and the objectivity she needed to maintain the professional front that was necessary in the world of medicine.

Luckily, she had a few minutes to strengthen her will power while she waited for the social workers to arrive. She could turn her back on the tiny, tiny human's loyalty to his parents and focus on the big picture-his physical safety. Any parent that leaves a nine year old alone to see a movie, or to attend a football game needs a wake up call. Ethical dilemmas weren't on her agenda for the week, or even the month – but this was the job. This was her calling. Keeping tiny humans safe. Being their advocate, their defender when times got tough…no matter how difficult it may be.

Arizona's forehead was supported by her hands, palms pushed into her eyes, rubbing them gently as she attempted to rid herself of personal opinion, so she could get through the day and return to her apartment. Nick had promised her pizza and beer, and even though she was certain she'd be on a strictly liquid (albeit alcoholic) diet when she returned home, the promise of pizza was something she wanted to hold on to.

A hand on her shoulder prompted Arizona to quickly remove her hands from her face. She conjured an impassive expression and turned around slowly, unsure of what to expect. Her eyes scanned the upper quadrant of the room, meeting only empty space, which prompted her to lower her line of vision.

"Hi, can I help you?" she inquired, using her parent-friendly, customer service voice.

"Yes. I'm Miranda Bailey from the Department of Social and Health Services. My associate will be up here in a few moments. We're here to assess the…" Miranda trailed off, opening her folder and quickly reading a line, "…the Stern case."

"Of course. I'm Arizona Robbins. I'm actually just a student but I'll go find the attending in charge. Oh, the parents haven't arrived yet," she informed the woman. Arizona smoothed out her lab coat and sidestepped the shorter woman, preparing to locate the attending she had been shadowing for the majority of the day. "Actually, you know what? Let me have a nurse page him, excuse me for just one moment."

Arizona turned around and leaned across the counter she had been resting on. Her small sanctuary was a little less Walden's Pond and a little more of a nurse's station. Huh, go figure. "Colleen, could you page Dr. Hampton for me?" The nurse nodded, locking her gaze with Arizona's a little longer than needed. "Thank you," Arizona cooed, turning back around to address Miranda. "He should be right up."

The last sentence came out of Arizona in a strangled squeak. Her mouth closed slowly and she sucked on her bottom lip nervously as her eyes darted between Miranda Bailey and her associate.

"Oookay…" Miranda trailed off, giving Arizona a questioning look before breaking the silence. "This is Calliope Torres, she will also be advising on the Stern case."

Callie cleared her throat and nudged her coworker, an action that received a threatening glance, and then a rectification.

"I'm sorry, how dare I use her full name. This is _Callie_ Torres."

* * *

"Calliope."

Callie took a step back, shifting her weight to one foot as she stared at Arizona. Part of her was angry that this tiny blonde woman, this tiny, hot, hot blonde woman, who neglected to use the number Callie had so willingly dispensed, had the audacity to address her by her appalling name. The other part of her was struggling to keep her defenses up. The name Calliope had rolled off of Arizona's tongue as if she'd practiced it in another life. It sounded natural. It sounded…beautiful. Arizona's pronunciation of her full name had almost made up for the years of playground bullying that she had endured.

She could feel two sets of eyes on her. One pair, the most brilliant sapphire she'd ever seen, and the other, soulful chocolate hues that were similar to her own. "Uh," she stammered, quickly shoving her hand in front of her and offering it to Arizona. "Callie's fine. It's nice to…meet you, Arizona." The words were deliberately punctuated, as though she were trying to convey some secret message to Arizona. Something hostile that sounded like, _Thanks for letting me make a fool of myself and not calling or texting for two weeks_. But it sounded more mentally handicapped than it did packed with angry subtext.

"While you two figure out how to speak English like adults…I'll be conferring with the doctor. Torres, when you pick your jaw up off the floor you can join me," Miranda commanded, turning around as the Attending approached, pulling him off into a corner to discuss the details of the case.

"Calliope…" Arizona started.

"Callie," the skater corrected, trying her best to stay angry. Her ego had taken a rapid nosedive after the apparent misinterpretation of Arizona's signals, and it wasn't going to ascend any time soon.

"Callie, I still have your number."

"Okay?"

"I was going to use it – I just wanted to wait a little bit."

"It's been two weeks. It's okay. I get it. I'm just some girl who kissed you on a dirty street."

"There was some dancing too if I recall," Arizona teased, trying to diffuse the situation by utilizing her dimpled smile.

"Was there? I guess I don't remember," Callie shrugged, averting her gaze. The dimples were definitely working.

"Oh, that's a shame. Because I remember your hands…here," Arizona reached out, running her fingertips along Callie's side, before dropping her hand and looking around.

"Mhm," Callie mumbled.

"I still have your number because I plan on using it."

"Save it," Callie bit back, her expression hardened for less than a second before she sighed. "Use it. Now if you'd excuse me – I have to work."

"Wait. I'll do you one better." Arizona reached into her pocket and pulled out a notebook and pen, scribbling her number down and giving it to an already retreating Callie.

"Don't be an Arizona, Callie. I'm expecting a text in no more than two to four days."

Callie shook her head and slid the piece of paper into the shallow pocket of her blazer, taking a few steps back, heading in the direction Bailey had gone with the doctor. Her head cocked to the side, and a small smirk played across her features. "I might." One graceful spin later, Callie's back was to Arizona and she was walking towards Bailey, swaying her hips with each step, her backside nearly on fire from the intensity of Arizona's stare. Yup. Callie Torres still had it.

* * *

**AN: There we have it. I feel a little guilty for leaving you all hanging but I promise you that there is a date/private interaction time in the near future. The very, very near future. As always, reviews are appreciated. **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Howdy! Happy 4th of July to all you 'mericans, and happy day for everyone else. This is the longest chapter yet, since I was given permission to keep y'all waiting if I made the chapters a little bit longer. :) Enjoy!**

* * *

Arizona's body bounced slightly against mattress, a groan of protest passing through her parted lips as the squeaky old box spring sang her its disharmonious song. The blonde writhed, kicking her feet until they connected with something or someone. "Go away! I'm sleeping!" she shouted, grabbing her pillow and flipping around onto her stomach in one swift motion. The bouncing didn't stop. It was soon supplemented by a certain weight, pinning Arizona to her bed. Something resembling a growl rumbled in the back of her throat and she thrashed until she heard a man's laughter. "Are you five?" she finally asked, surrendering to the torture Nick was putting her through. He was annoying enough to be her brother, though she supposed childhood husband was also a sufficient title. He nagged her enough to be married to her.

"Arizona, it's one in the afternoon. You told me to wake you up when your exam results were posted. They're up." He nudged her playfully and slowly raised himself from his position on the bed, releasing Arizona from her Egyptian cotton-prison. "F means fantastic right?" he teased, scratching his head thoughtfully as he stared at her. "Or is it fabulous? Either way, you seem to have done fantastically." He grinned, his jovial expression falling when Arizona sat up and glared at him. "Whoa. Okay Carrie, don't light me on fire." He remained upright, slowly backing up through Arizona's bedroom door as she pulled herself from the bed and ran a hand through her hair. Arizona was always a grump in the morning and he chastised himself for bothering her so soon after she'd been awakened.

The blonde leered at her roommate until he stopped talking and left her to cower in his room. "You're whipped!" Arizona shouted, then quickly moved through the apartment and found Nick's laptop, which already had the university's grade portal pulled up for her convenience. "What an ass," she mumbled beneath her breath. A vertical row of A's filled the grids beside her class names, and she felt a surge of pride run through her. She wasn't_fantastic_ - she was _awesome. _Now that grades were posted, Arizona's break had officially begun. There was nothing to stress out about for the next two weeks…well, nothing academic to stress out about.

She'd be lying if she said that Callie hadn't crossed her mind a few times since their last encounter at the hospital. Her natural confidence had faltered after they parted and she immediately questioned her corrective methods. Giving the skater her phone number wasn't exactly the most proactive course of action. Of course she was interested in Callie. It was obvious, wasn't it? Arizona sighed, knowing that now that she had nothing scholastic to worry about, her mind would focus solely on her blunder with the other woman. Pushing the laptop off of her lap, Arizona scurried back into her bedroom and grabbed her phone off of the nightstand before walking over to her desk. Leaning down, her eyes fixed upon the napkin and she typed the digits into her phone, saving Callie as a contact.

Her eyes stayed on the illuminated screen and she held her breath, as though she were waiting for some sort of relief to flood her system. It never came. Pouting, she kicked her chair out from beneath the desk and plopped down, her fingers ghosting over the screen. Women were supposed to be flocking to her. She was hot. Arizona was not one to be holed up in her bedroom deciding whether or not it was too soon to text a girl. That's not how it worked…except it was. Her fingers swiped over the keys and before she had the chance to stop herself, she had texted the athlete.

**Arizona: Hey.**

The blonde shrugged. That was an acceptable greeting. Casual. Confident. Arizona's phone buzzed and she juggled it between her startled hands. Her message hadn't even gone through yet and there was a text waiting in her inbox.

**Callie: It's only been a day, but I'm an overachiever. Hi.**

Arizona grinned, another text appearing.

**Callie: That was weird. Well timed, but weird.**

**Arizona: I have a sixth sense. I totally knew it was coming.**

**Callie: I'll keep that in mind.**

**Arizona: You better. How'd the Stern case pan out?**

**Callie: I can't say. We're still working on it.**

**Arizona: Poor kid.**

Her bottom lip was taut between her teeth as she read her texts, promptly replying, that sense of relief she had asked for slowly making its presence known.

**Callie: I know.**

**Arizona: What are you doing tonight?**

**Callie: The team's going to Joe's, I'm probably going to tag along.**

**Arizona: What if I have a better offer? Like…dinner? Without my brother.**

**Callie: I'll have to think about it.**

Arizona's face fell, the smile completely vanishing from her expression. _Crap._ She had messed it up at the hospital. She inhaled deeply and set her phone down on her desk, grumbling in her displeasure. Where had her game gone? Her ability to woo women had seemed to flee the moment she entered medical school. Her dream of helping children had eclipsed her desire to have really, really good sex with Seattle's most beautiful women – and she wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that.

* * *

Saturday mornings were Callie's favorite, even if her definition of morning had been modified to include the two to four hours after she woke up. The routine she had developed for these mornings included the presence of her best friend, Mark Sloan. The pair had an upstanding brunch date every Saturday and the time together allowed them to privately lament over the week's mishaps while filling their stomachs with waffles. They kept their phones on the table, placed beside their plates. For Callie, it was for work purposes. For Mark, it was for work and for pleasure. His phone was always ringing. Usually. Today, it was relatively silent, while Callie's was shaking the silverware on the table as it buzzed.

"Is that your boss? Do you gotta go, Torres? I'll cover the bill, it's my turn anyway," he managed to speak, though his cheeks were packed with a mouthful of syrup saturated breakfast food.

"No, Mark. It's Arizona," she played, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"What's she want, Cal?"

"Dinner." Callie stared at Arizona's offer for dinner, typing out a quick reply before setting the phone down. "I told her I'd think about it."

Mark chuckled slightly and shook his head, shoving another forkful into his mouth before he chose to speak again. "That's right, you make her wait. I'm proud of you." He winked at her, and she rolled her eyes, reaching across the table to steal a piece of his bacon.

"Shut up. I just, you know. I don't want to be the one running around, bending over backwards for some sign of affection. I can't do that again, Mark. I can't be the one left standing in the rain because some tiny blonde woman decided she's too good for me."

"That woman was the devil," he assured her, his mind flashing back to what he referred to as 'The Dark Age'. "This one's better. I can tell. I can read women." He grinned in his charming, over-confident manner, and the skater settled into her seat, unable to refute his claims. He could calm her down. He knew what to say, when to say it, and she had never been more grateful for his friendship. In the past year, he'd gotten her through too many personal tragedies to count.

"I hope you're right."

"Please, I'm always right."

Her foot shot out from under her, kicking him in the shin, just to bring him back to Earth and she picked up her phone.

**Callie: Dinner is good. My place? This way we don't have to worry about interruptions. I'm not a creepy stalker I promise but… I have a request.**

**Arizona: Yes. Okay, should I be worried?**

**Callie: I'm not sure yet. I need you to go to the grocery store and pick up five random ingredients. **

**Arizona: Now I'm worried.**

**Callie: Maybe you should be. My address is 502 9****th**** Ave North.**

**Arizona: See you later!**

Callie set her phone back down and cut another piece of waffle, before plopping it into her mouth and staring at her best friend. "So tell me about this Lexie girl. I heard you two from across the hall last night. It sounded…painful." She arched a brow and met his gaze, watching as he shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

"She almost broke me, Callie. It _bent_. It bent. And we got it back to normal, but I was so close to calling you over to take a look. It was bad. Really bad…but also kind of great." He grinned proudly, laughing as Callie nearly choked on her breakfast.

"You're gross. That's gross."

* * *

Arizona eyed the contents of her shopping bag suspiciously, as though the items she had just purchased would suddenly animate and viciously assault her. The colorful and random assortment of groceries did nothing to calm her nerves, as the colors clashed and offended her sight while making her inner neat-freak wildly unhappy. Had she followed Callie's instructions too closely? The other woman had requested five random ingredients, and while Arizona had obliged, she wasn't sure what good a bottle of oregano, a bag of chocolate chips, a bag of baby carrots, chicken cutlets, and a red bell pepper would do. What she did know was that it was much too late to exchange her goods for a more cohesive bundle of ingredients. Her car was idling in a corner parking spot that faced the entrance of the building where Callie Torres resided. Her anxiety had been slowly accumulating all day and showed no signs of stopping. The blonde took what she intended to be a steadying breath, but burst into a small fit of nervous laughter.

This would be her first "grown up" date. The realization struck the student as humorous, for any other reaction might have led to debilitating fear. The early portion of her twenties, which, she admittedly was still in, had consisted of a series of drinks, group gatherings in her apartments, and lots of shared peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Arizona didn't even like sandwiches, she was simply used to them. Dinner for two in a beautiful woman's seemingly upscale loft apartment had never been in the cards before. When her laughter subsided, Arizona quickly pulled her keys from the ignition and pushed her door open, clutching the bag of ingredients with her free hand. It was now or never, and the last thing she wanted to do was keep Callie waiting one more time.

It didn't take Arizona long to cross the small expanse of pavement that led to the spacious lobby of Callie's apartment building. Her signature optimism had reared its pretty pink head – and eclipsed any feelings of intimidation that had threatened to surface upon her entering the expensive looking residential complex. She instead chose to focus on the facility's easy-to-navigate layout as she located and beckoned the elevator without a hitch. For all of her strengths, navigational skills were not one of them. A dimpled grin graced her delicate features as she stepped into the elevator and pushed the button for the fifth floor.

A mechanical, strangely enthusiastic DING pierced the silence as two steel doors parted to make way for Arizona. Deciding she was a gambling woman, she turned right, relying on her intuition to find Callie's door. As she walked, her gaze bounced from door to door until she reached the end of the hall. "Hah!" She cheered, staring down those three fateful numbers. 502. As her hand rose to knock, she noticed the faint sounds of music floating beneath the door. She hesitated as she racked her brain for the song's title. As 'Single Ladies" hit her, she rapped her knuckles against the door and chuckled when the music came to an abrupt halt.

Hushed, but rushed footsteps were all the warning Arizona needed, and she braced herself for the vision she was about to see. The door was yanked open and Arizona realized that no amount of preparation would have been sufficient. "Calliope," she breathed, stepping into the woman's apartment, desperately trying to fight the imminent rush of blood to her cheeks. "You look…" her voice failed her and she glanced appreciatively at her date. Callie was clad in a form fitting black dress, short heels straining her derby-toned leg muscles. Her hair was down, falling in loose waves over her shoulders.

"You look…too," Callie laughed, her own eyes dancing over Arizona's form.

The two women stood in an awkward limbo for a few moments before Arizona shrugged and set down her bag of groceries, pulling the taller woman into a tight embrace. Her eyes squeezed shut as Callie drew in closer, her scent once again flooding Arizona's senses, nearly rendering her speechless. They lingered in their embrace before Callie took a small step backwards, seemingly jittery in her movements. Arizona found the crack in her date's badass foundation endearing, and didn't bother hiding her smirk.

"So I got the mystery foods you requested," she stated, bending down to present the bag to the Latina.

"Oh, right! I got a few random items myself. I was hoping we could try and cook something together."

"You're in luck then. I'm a great cook…kinda." Arizona followed Callie into the kitchen and set the bag on the counter. "What I lack in creativity I make up for in excellent recipe following."

The taller woman shook her head in amusement. "You know there's no recipe, right? We're totally winging it."

Arizona playfully hip-checked Callie, feigning offense at the other woman's playful tone. "In that case, I'm pretty adept with knives. I'm your chop-girl."

Callie pushed a small pile of food items between them, revealing her own selection of items for their mystery meal. Butter, strawberries, angel hair pasta, fresh rosemary, and a bottle of wine.

Together they stared at their assortment of items in bewilderment.

"I have an idea," Callie remarked. "We open the wine. Drink it. That way – if dinner sucks, we'll be buzzed."

"I was thinking the same thing. You got my favorite."

"Did I? I forgot to mention that I'm psychic."

"Oh yeah? What am I thinking right now?"

"You're thinking…_damn, Callie Torres is hot_. You're also thinking about the number seven and the color pink."

"Hmm….yes, no, and yes."

"Two out of three ain't bad." Callie winked, pleased with her reasoning. Arizona thought she felt her heart stop. "Bottle opener is in the second drawer by you, could you grab it for me? Then we can figure out what the hell we're going to cook for ourselves."

* * *

"I still think you cheated by getting wine instead of food," the blonde argued between bites of chicken. The two women had settled for a simple, yet delicious meal of rosemary chicken that paired well with their sautéed pepper and carrot combination. The pasta was an added bonus, especially for Callie, who found herself in a fit of laughter as she watched Arizona attempt to eat the stringy carbohydrates without hitting herself in the chin with the noodles. They had come to a mutual agreement that strawberries and chocolate chips wouldn't fit their main course, and opted to use those items for future use.

"I did not cheat. Wine is food…it's made out of food. Grapes. It's not my fault they fermented and were put into liquid form."

"You cheated."

Callie grunted, popping the last forkful of chicken into her mouth. Their plans for a home cooked meal had almost been foiled, but she and Arizona made a good team in the kitchen. Arizona could cut a vegetable flawlessly, and Callie had made sure to question medical school's involvement in the development of her cutting skills.

"You weren't complaining when you drank the last drop of it," she finally retorted, setting her fork down and leaning back in her chair. "You also weren't complaining when I busted out the second bottle."

"Are you judging me for my thirst? Because that's just mean and…judgey."

"I am not judgey or judging. I'm just making an observation," Callie played, watching as Arizona finished her meal.

"That was good, right? It wasn't just the wine…we actually cooked something edible, and delicious." The blonde inquired, genuinely concerned that Callie had enjoyed the meal as much as she did. Her sincerity struck a chord in Callie, and the skater couldn't help but allow her expression to soften, eyes twinkling with renewed affection.

"Yeah. It was really, really good."

The Latina grinned when her affirmation put Arizona at ease. She was relieved that there had been very few moments of silence between them. Conversation and laughter came unnaturally easy to Callie when she was in the presence of Arizona. The only instances where Callie felt tense were in those moments when she and Arizona's bodies brushed against one another in the close quarters of the kitchen. It wasn't her typical tension it was…the exciting kind. She felt like she was a spring coiled so tightly, just waiting for any excuse to release, to soar into some unknown territory. And wasn't that exactly what she was doing?

"I want dessert." Arizona spoke, pulling Callie from her thoughts.

"Already?"

"Yup. Chocolate chips are my favorite." She blushed. "I might have cheated by buying them. So we're even."

The skater stood up and collected their plates, carrying them out into the kitchen and carefully placing them in the sink for future cleansing. "Chocolate chips and strawberries?" She asked quizzically, grabbing the two items required for their strange dessert. "I'll grab some plates, we can eat these on the couch?"

"Sounds good!"

"I know. I have a really comfortable couch."

* * *

"Open your mouth wider, there's no way I can get it in with you like that." Callie whined, closing one eye as she sized up her target; Arizona's mouth. "There! That's enough. Don't open it all the way, there's no challenge in that. Yes! There, okay stay like that." Callie rolled a chocolate chip between her thumb and forefinger before flicking her wrist, watching as the small morsel skimmed Arizona's bottom lip before landing safely in her mouth. "Score!" The skater shouted, raising her arms above her head in victory. "That puts me in the lead." She grinned proudly and handed the bag of chocolate chips to Arizona, watching as the blonde pulled out a chocolate chip and repositioned herself to make the shot.

"I'm about to tie it up. No cheating. You closed your mouth last time."

"Did not!"

"Did too. I saw it. Now shh, I'm trying to concentrate."

With a huff, Callie dropped her hands into her lap and opened her mouth, her eyes brows rising in anticipation. Arizona was taking her time – a devious grin plastered on her face. Had she not been having so much fun, she'd be worried about how silly she looked sitting there with her mouth hanging open, but the thought didn't even cross her mind. Callie fought the urge to close her mouth as she watched the chocolate chip leave Arizona's grip. It bounced off of her lower lip and dribbled to the floor. Her eyes followed the candy as it rolled onto the small area rug, and she made a mental note to pick it up when they were finished.

"Ha! I'm still winning," she bragged, cocking her head as Arizona shifted closer to her. "And that's cheating you can't get closer just 'cause your aim sucks."

"You're really competitive, aren't you?" Arizona asked, already knowing the answer.

The brunette nodded emphatically her hand automatically reaching out to touch Arizona's knee briefly. "What are you doing?" She finally asked, her head still tilted slightly to the side.

"You have some of that last chip on your lip," Arizona replied, grabbing Callie's hand as the taller woman reached up to wipe off her own mouth. "Stop, don't ruin my moment." She ordered, the alcohol making her more brazen than usual.

"Bossy."

"Mhm, very." The blonde whispered in agreement, her hands rising to gently cup Callie's cheeks. Her eyes met Callie's, as though silently asking for permission. She felt the brunette tip her head slightly, nodding in approval, and she closed the distance between their lips. Arizona kissed Callie slowly, with no haste, no rush. She allowed herself to fully experience the sensation of full lips working against her own, the taste of chocolate and strawberries lingering. The moment she felt a small moan building in the back of her throat, she pulled back, brushing her lips against Callie's without allowing full contact. Her eyes fluttered open, and she found herself biting her lips as she stared at her date. "I think I got it."

"Are you sure? I think I can still feel something…"

"I guess I'll have to try again, then. I'm nothing, if not a perfectionist."

* * *

**AN2: So I know I made a point of talking about Callie's financial situation in the last chapter, and you may be confused as to why she's in a nice, expensive looking apartment building...this will all be explained soon! Reviews are always welcomed. And last but not least, thanks to my betas : tumblr users arizonatheadulterer and foreverhers17 !**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Enjoy!**

* * *

Cloudless mornings were a rarity in Seattle, where morning dew usually dripped and puddled in beds of grass, and droplets of water poured down onto the suspecting, and always inconvenienced inhabitants of the Rainy City. For the sake of springtime, Mother Nature had seemed to grant the city a brief reprieve from the moisture it had become so accustomed to. The sky was an artist's palette, pinks and oranges swirling in brilliant streaks across the morning sky. The sun was rising, an incandescent globe ascending from behind the sylvan landscape that had once been shielding Callie's unappreciative eyes from the eastern sky. The skater was many things, but a morning person was not one of them. Her eyes narrowed in an exaggerated squint, and she groaned, quickly dropping to the ground, only to push herself up in a quick, fluid motion.

"Tell me again why I play this sport?" she huffed, the rapid movement taking more oxygen than she could replenish while trying to maintain a conversation. Off skates practices had always been the bane of her existence. Mark Sloan had a thing for watching women sweat at the ass crack of dawn.

"Because you can't live without it," the woman beside her suggested, her own voice straining as she dropped down into a deep squat.

"I can though, I really can. I think I'm dying right now."

"You're not dying. You're a nightmare in the mornings, for everyone involved. That's all this is."

"Shut up, Monty. I'm not above _accidentally _knocking you down next scrimmage." Callie grinned, nudging her teammate with her elbow. She erected herself, eyes scanning the cluster of women that had convened to take part in the practice, warily searching for Mark. As she rested her legs, she pushed a few tendrils of unruly hair off of her face.

"You wouldn't do that."

The Latina chuckled at her friend's tone. Though the other woman had made a statement, it was laced with a certain threat that Callie had no interest in exploring any further. "Monty Cristo" was the type of woman who had been given an eerily calm disposition, something that was coupled with her sense of self-awareness. Monty was easily one of the most beautiful women Callie had ever seen. Her hair color was a combination of auburn and warm hues of red, her eyes emerald and always sparkling with unparalleled confidence. For all the adversity she had faced, Monty, occasionally known as Addison, had never let her shoulders fall, or her foundation crumble. Callie never would have pegged Addison as a derby girl, despite the fact that they had been friends since college, but she found that the sport took all kinds of women – each searching for something different within the family they were forming.

"You're right, I wouldn't."

Addison nodded proudly with Callie's agreement, dropping to one knee to begin the lunges that the rest of the group had apparently begun.

"So are you going to tell me about the date you had while I was away? Last I heard you'd sworn off men and women."

"I know what you're doing. You're thinking ' I told you so'. I can hear it in your voice. It was one date, there's no commitment. It was just fun."

"Uh huh," Addison smirked. "Callie, there's nothing wrong with going on dates. There's nothing wrong with liking someone. You can't help that."

"You're right. And I do like her. We had fun. She's perky. Which is weird for me, but she's cute. She's hot and I can almost ignore the butterfly necklace she wore to my apartment. But that doesn't mean this is going to become something. I tried that too many times to count and I feel like…if something happens, I won't be able to stand up again."

Monty grimaced as she picked up on her friend's tonal changes, how her initial joy had shifted to pain and embarrassment. It was in Callie's nature to love, to care. Her altruism was the very thing that had attracted Monty to the younger woman. It was refreshing, but she'd observed Callie's increasing reservations little by little, with each failed relationship. She sighed, reaching out to lightly touch Callie's shoulder.

"You're going to be alright. Keep trying. I know you want to. Ask her out again. Kiss her again. When have I ever steered you wrong? I knew you were gay before you did. Trust me. I know what's good for you."

There wasn't enough energy left in Callie to argue with her friend's assessment of her love life. Her thighs were burning; muscles already exhausted from the circuit Mark had thrust upon them. He had caught wind of their conversation and quickly ordered them back to work, his power trip eliciting the most frightening scowls he'd ever seen from the two women. As the hours dragged on, Callie and Addison funneled their way to the back of the group and sat down in the grass – wincing in sympathy each time their teammates were forced to bend their bodies in ways that were most likely considered inhumane. It was going to be a long morning, and neither of them was in the mood for pulling muscles during Mark's so-called dynamic stretching routine.

* * *

"I can't believe I let you wake me up to feed ducks at the ass crack of dawn," Arizona whined, shoving her hand into a container of oats. Her bare ankles were itching, as the dry blades of grass tickled her exposed skin. She wasn't a fan of the outdoors. Constant relocation during her childhood had given her an insatiable need for creature comforts, and allergens were not on her list.

"You were awake anyway. Probably thinking about your roller girl," her slender friend quipped, tossing her own handful of oats towards the ducks.

"I don't like ducks. Why couldn't we feed something cute? Like chickens!"

"Ducks are aquatic chickens."

"Well why do we have to feed them oats? My hands are getting all oat-dusty."

"Bread is bad for them. Come on, we took the same classes in undergrad. Bread can lead to avian botulism, remember?"

Arizona stared at her partner in disbelief. "Why would I need to remember something like that, Teddy?"

The darker haired woman shrugged, shaking her head in amusement at Arizona's grumpiness. "Why are you so grouchy? A few nights ago you had a date with a dirty, sexy athlete."

Arizona cocked her head at Teddy and crinkled her nose.

"Those were Tim's words. Not mine," Teddy clarified, holding her hands up in surrender.

"It was good. I literally had to pull myself off of her by the end of the night." Teddy cleared her throat and Arizona shook her head. "Not like that! I think whatever we're doing…we're taking it slow. She hasn't called though, neither have I but – wait, why were you talking to my brother?"

"I told you already. When I got out of medical school I wanted to enlist. I had some questions and he helped me with them. I don't want to be a Marine, but he knows about the reserves, things like that." Teddy's voice was weaker now. Talking about her brother's imminent deployment and her own future in the service always struck a chord with Arizona, but she couldn't lie to her friend either.

The shorter blonde wasn't sure what to say in regard to her friend's admission, so she nodded and shoved her hand back into the oats container, violently flinging the morsels through the air. The action was somehow less cathartic than she hoped it would be, so she tried again. A small lump had built in the back of her throat, forcing her to swallow, and eventually speak. "That's great," she lied. "I'm proud of you." This wasn't a lie, but she found that forming the words on her tongue was difficult. As great as serving the country was, she was selfish enough to not want to lose two of the people she trusted most.

"Thank you," Teddy muttered, uncomfortable with the tension that had settled between the two of them. She knew that her friend wasn't the type of person who willingly spoke out about her problems, or her feelings towards troublesome things – and she found it best to drop the conversation until it _needed _to be had. That's how Arizona liked to do things. "Tell me more about Torres. If this thing with Henry doesn't work out, I might be on the market for a derby girl."

Thankful for Teddy's transition, she smiled, allowing her thoughts to venture back from Iraq and into more pleasant grounds. "We cooked together. At first I thought it was going to be a disaster because I need a recipe to cook anything worth eating but we pulled it off. And for dessert, we had chocolate chips," she beamed proudly.

"How'd you swing that one? Did you plant a bag in her house?" Teddy chuckled, fully aware of her company's affinity for semi-sweet chocolate chips.

"Mmm something like that. And when we kissed – it was hard to stop. It's been a _long _time since I've wanted to kiss someone until I couldn't breathe anymore. It was good, Teddy. Really good. I think I want to see her again."

"Really? I couldn't tell by the way your eyes just glazed over at the thought of kissing her. How long has it been since you got laid?"

"Shut up. It's not about that. She seemed interested. I'm interested, but I just think we're going to stick with good old-fashioned make outs for now. Kissing Callie was – it was just as good as sleeping with Carly, and you remember how much –"

Teddy plugged her ears with the tips of her fingers, "Don't want to hear it! I remember how much, and how loud you and Carly were. I do not need a reminder."

It was hard to suppress her own laughter; Teddy had never been a fan of her last serious girlfriend. She supposed it would have been a little disconcerting to wake up in the middle of the night listening to her dorm-mates' sex sounds, something Teddy had complained about frequently during their freshmen and sophomore year of college. "Sorry." Arizona shook her can of oats and frowned. "Hey. I'm out of oats. Let's go back to my place so Nick can make us pancakes."

"Yes!" Teddy ran a hand over her stomach, signifying her hunger. Turning around, she playfully kicked Arizona's calf – her eyes scanning the rest of the park as she started towards the entrance. Off in the distance, there was a large assembly of women, squatting, jumping, and jogging in place. Teddy patted her stomach again. "Look at those women, doing some sort of aerobics boot camp. They don't know what they're missing. Nick's pancakes are better than my grandmother's."

Arizona watched the women in the horizon for a few seconds before shrugging. "More for us!"

* * *

Callie shifted her weight from foot to foot, both aching from the beating they had taken earlier in the morning. Her clothes clung to her as she attempted to pull her shirt over her head, the fabric damp from perspiration. It took a great struggle, but she successfully rid herself of the garment, opened the door to her shower and turned the knob to a cool setting. She had gotten enough heat during her exercise, and a hot shower would only serve to make her feel more disgusting. The work out had shaken any sleep from her, and she knew she was doomed to be conscious for the rest of the day. As the shower-head spat, she adjusted the pressure until she was satisfied, testing the water once before stepping beneath the falling water. The water bounced off of her shoulders, almost massaging the ache from her muscles – something that elicited a small, satisfied sigh to pass through her lips.

She reached for the new bottle of shampoo she had just bought and squirted a dollop into her hand before setting the bottle down and closing her eyes as she worked it into a rich lather in her hair. Her fingers worked into her scalp while she hummed a new medley of songs she had heard on the radio, switching tunes when she forgot the rest of the melody. Her body was cooling down, relaxing despite the slightly frigid temperature of the water, and she turned around to rinse her hair from a better angle. As she turned, her eyes opened, widening as she watched her bathroom door swing open.

"Hey Torres do you have any –" Mark trailed off, making a valiant effort to keep his eyes away from her naked and wet form. "Shampoo…I'm all out." His eyes fell for a moment. "Cold shower? Nice."

Callie rolled her eyes and grabbed her shampoo bottle before pushing the door open and throwing it at him, full force. He scrambled to catch it, and winked at her. "Knock next time, you're going to give me a heart attack!" she hollered after him, laughing despite herself.

"You got it!" he replied, leaving the bathroom before poking his head back over. "Don't tell Lexie. I tried so hard not to look."

"I'm sure you did, now get the hell out of my bathroom."

The distraction Mark had caused moved Callie from her state of chilled bliss, and the water was becoming too cold for her comfort. Her hand reached down to turn the knob to a warmer setting, and she settled herself back in the shower, squirting conditioner into her palm and once again lathering up. As the warm water danced off of her skin, some forming glistening rivulets down her neck and shoulders, she tilted her head back. The trickling water created a familiar sensation, like fingertips ghosting along her skin. Her thoughts ventured back to her date, and her lips curled into a smile. Arizona had been gentle during their kisses, her hands tentatively touching Callie's jaw line and shoulders. It was something Callie had missed, a closeness that she could control, warmth that surged through her whole body, both relaxing and tensing her up simultaneously.

Arizona was a good kisser. A great kisser.

The skater shook her head and moved her hands through her hair, rinsing the conditioner out. It didn't take her long to finish her shower routine, and she stepped out from beneath the water before she could find herself completely lost in her thoughts.

Maybe Monty was right. Another date couldn't hurt, right?

Callie wrapped a towel around herself and padded out of the bathroom to grab her phone. She pressed the contact button for Arizona, and listened to it ring until she reached voicemail. She grumbled under her breath, but waited patiently for the phone to beep.

"Hey, it's me. Torres, uh, Callie. I was just in the shower and I was thinking about you…No. Wait." She cleared her throat. "I'm trying this again. Hi. It's Callie. I had a great time the other night and was wondering if you'd like to meet up for coffee tonight, around 7? Okay, bye."

* * *

Arizona raised the ceramic mug to her lips and gently blew on the liquid in hopes of cooling it down, much to no avail. Setting the cup back down on the plate, she checked her phone. It was just a few minutes before seven. Her thirst had encouraged her to arrive and order her latte early, though it was still too hot to consume. The blonde leaned back in the plushy faux leather chair, her purse placed across from her on a matching chair, saving the space for her date. She smiled to herself as she remembered Callie's voicemail. She'd thought about Callie in the shower too, and the skater's slip of the tongue had both amused her and put her at ease. When she had first picked up her phone and listened to the voicemail, she took a few moments to appreciate the candidness of it all, before shooting Callie a text to sort out the details of their date.

A gust of night air filled the room, warming the air-conditioned space as a new customer passed through the door. Blue orbs trailed along the floor and to the door, fixing on the form of a beaming Callie. Arizona stood up, waving to the taller woman as she took a few steps towards her. They met in the center of the café, hugging each other briefly before parting, Callie to order her coffee, and Arizona to guard their prized seats. It didn't take long for Callie to sit down in front of her, setting down a small pastry with silverware on the table between them.

"Hi." She said warmly. "I figured we could split this. There's chocolate in it so I'm pretty sure you'll like it. I'm starving."

"You figured right," Arizona replied, grabbing a fork.

"How was your day?"

"Ugh. Boring. I woke up early and went to the park with a friend. My roommate made pancakes and we spent the rest of the day watching National Geographic. Yours?"

"It just got better," Callie said, pleased with her execution of the line. It was a satisfactory recovery from her voicemail mishap earlier in the day. "We had practice, also at the park, I went home, showered, met my best friend's girlfriend and now I'm here."

"If we were at the same park I'm going to be so mad that I missed the chance to see you all sweaty."

"There will be plenty of time for you to see me all sweaty," she played, her brow rising in suggestion before she realized how bold she had just sounded. "…because if it's going to be this hot and it's only Spring, I might melt."

Arizona smirked. "Oh, that's all, huh? Just the weather."

Callie bit her lower lip; her eyes locked on the blonde across the table from her as she searched for something to say. Arizona's playfulness was something she hadn't encountered before. The woman was a mixture of innocence and naughtiness that left the skater off kilter, in a good way. Instead of speaking, she grabbed her fork and managed to swipe a piece of chocolate pastry off of the plate, plopping it into her mouth.

"Oh god," she moaned. "It's so good."

Arizona blinked, her ears perking up at the sound that escaped her date's lips, and she actively tried to push any inappropriate thoughts out of her mind. She followed Callie's lead, putting a piece of their food into her mouth. Her eyes closed and she understood Callie's need to vocalize her satisfaction but she managed to keep herself restrained.

"That is good," she agreed, picking up her coffee and taking a sip. "You're going to need to eat your half a lot faster or I'll take it all," she warned. "I'm an addict."

"There are support groups, you know. You're not alone, if you need help managing your addiction."

It didn't take long for the two women to polish off their dessert, eating in the short intervals between their conversations. Callie had managed to coerce Arizona into letting her taste her latte, and it became clear to Arizona that they were both in fact, addicted to chocolate. When she accused the other woman of their mutual addiction, Callie's expression shifted, her eyes twinkling with feigned innocence. Arizona knew better though, no one who looked like Callie, kissed like Callie, touched like Callie, could be that innocent.

When the lights in the café began to brighten, the ambience being replaced by industrialism, the women stood up. The café was closing, and they were the last two patrons. Arizona didn't mind the dirty looks she was receiving from the tired and underpaid employees – her attention was elsewhere. "Do you want to do this again sometime?" she hopefully inquired.

"Yeah," Callie nodded, as though her answer was the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm going to have a busy week. We're still trying to wrap up the Stern case, and about a dozen others…but does Friday night sound good?"

"Friday is perfect."

Arizona took a step towards the exit, feeling the eyes of the barista burning her back, and she held her arm out to Callie, who promptly looped her own through as they stepped outside and faced each other.

"May I walk you to your car?" the Latina asked, playfully deepening her voice to convey old-fashioned formality.

"Skater and a gentlewoman? How did I get so lucky?"

The brunette smirked, looking down at Arizona. "Probably because you're a teeny bit cute." She leaned down and pressed her lips against the blonde's, one hand snaking around her waist and pulling her closer.

Arizona wondered how she'd find her car, when all she could see were stars.

* * *

**AN: Don't get too complacent! They may be cute but this is still an augmented Shondaland. What lies ahead for our ladies? As JCap sings, Drama! Thrills! **


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Sorry that took so long!**

* * *

_On the first day of her first semester at medical school, Arizona walked through the door of her lecture hall at exactly 8:01. The class was scheduled to begin at 8:00, and she expected lenience in punctuality for the first day of classes. Much to her dismay, the professor had other ideas and chose to use her as an example for other students to follow. Never come late to class. On time – was as good as being late. Over the course of this complimentary lesson, Arizona had tested her ability to keep her tears contained when she was in a public setting, even if an authority figure was belittling her before she had even had her first sip of morning coffee. _

When her father had chosen to discipline her, it was in the privacy of their own home, where she could cry freely upon hearing her shortcomings. It was something the student never forgot, and it caused her to arrive early to all appointments, for fear of being humiliated once again.

As she sat at her reserved table on the night of her date with Callie, she regretted her need to be early, to be precise, to control the situation. Being surrounded by couples did nothing to quiet the butterflies that had awakened when her mind drifted to Callie. What would she order? Nothing with garlic, that would make kissing Callie unpleasant. Would they even kiss again? Did Callie like kissing her, or was it something she did simply out of courtesy? Arizona reached into her purse and pulled her phone out, checking the screen for new messages. There was nothing. She sighed, and placed the device on the table, lining it up between her glass of wine and silverware. Her eyes were trained on the screen and she hoped that if she stared hard enough, she could summon a distraction.

Her attention drifted back to her wine, and she reached out to grab the glass. Alcohol would put her at ease. What was the big deal? There was no pressure, other than the obnoxious sounds of love-fueled laughter filtering through the air from all directions. The café had been more relaxed, as had Callie's apartment. This restaurant was highly acclaimed, slightly fancy, and much more formal than what she was used to when it came to her dating routine. Two long swallows of wine later, Arizona's phone buzzed quietly against the table. She set the glass down and swiped through her phone to reach her inbox, reading a text that put her right at ease.

**Callie: Hey, I'm going to be a few minutes late. When I put my clothes in the dryer I forgot to actually turn the dryer on. I didn't want to give you the wrong idea by showing up in wet pants.**

Arizona smirked.

**Arizona: Hurry up or I'm going to get drunk without you.**

**Callie: I'm on my way!**

The rigidity in her posture was quickly replaced by the casual demeanor that she reserved for every day interactions, though the loose knots in her stomach suggested that her nervousness would make at least one more appearance before the night was over. Arizona had always prided herself on her ability to remain calm under stressful situations, emergent situations, something that would undoubtedly help her through medical school; but for some reason, the thought of a derby girl made her feel as though she were going into anaphylaxis. It was strange; the skater was both the problem and the cure. Trying her best to ignore her excessively, juvenilely, romantic thoughts, she tucked her phone back into her pocket and treated herself to another sip of wine.

This date would be okay.

It would be great.

* * *

Callie dropped the phone she had just used to text Arizona onto the passenger seat the moment the traffic light shifted from red to green. Releasing the clutch, she pushed the car quickly into gear, grumbling about her inability to use her car to its full potential. City driving wasn't conducive to owning a vintage luxury sports car. She had, one more than one occasion, felt absolutely ridiculous driving through the center of Seattle in a powder blue Thunderbird at 35 mph. Wanting nothing more than to push the pedal to the floor, Callie expressed her frustrations by gripping the steering wheel tight enough to turn her knuckles white. She was already five minutes late for their date, and she had several more blocks to navigate before arriving at the restaurant.

A mechanical ringing sound overpowered the soft music that buzzed through her speakers. Callie turned the radio to an inaudible volume and reached for her phone, patting the seat until she found it. Without looking at the device, she swiped her thumb across the screen and held it against her ear.

"Hello," she said, keeping her voice friendly – just in case it was a work call.

"Calliope. I'm surprised you answered your phone," a lightly accented voice greeted in response.

A lump built up in her throat. An indescribable heaviness settled on her chest and pushed the air from her unsuspecting lungs.

"Then why did you bother calling me, daddy?" she finally murmured, struggling to find the strength she needed to back up her words.

"I wanted to tell you that your sister is getting married next week, and you should send her gift this week if you expect it to arrive on time."

"Send her a gift?! Send her a -"

"Gift. Yes. It would reflect poorly on this family if you failed to send your own sister a gift on her wedding day."

"Send her a gift with what money? The money that you took when you emptied and closed my bank accounts?"

"This wouldn't be a problem if you hadn't changed our plans for you."

"That was the problem, daddy! They were _your _plans for me. I didn't get a say?"

"You did. And you chose this life. I didn't blink when you brought a girl home to family dinner. But I will not stand by and let you throw away the chance at a good life. This is for your own good."

"You blinked plenty. Don't act like this is something you did for me. You don't like having to explain why your daughter abandoned the family company so you decided to pretend that you don't have a daughter. I'm not stupid."

The conversation lulled, static crackling into her ear. Callie tried her best to swallow the lump, to inflate her chest to avoid feeling as though her organs were being crushed, but it didn't work. The silence scared her, and she switched lanes to quickly turn into a parking lot. Floodgates were opening, and she knew she couldn't stop it. The anger that she felt towards her father was only present when he was not. Hearing his voice threw water on that flame, igniting something much more painful within her. Tears pricked the back of her eyes like needles, her emotions betraying her as tears seeped through the holes and fell, catching on her lashes before dribbling down her cheeks. She blinked furiously, listening as her father inhaled loudly.

"Calliope, you made your bed. Now you must lay in it."

"You know what, daddy?" Her voice was raised an octave as she choked on the sadness he had instilled in her. "Fu-"

A short jingle rang in her ear, and she pulled the phone away to watch as the logo flashed across the screen before it faded to black. "Damn it! _Joder."_Callie threw her phone across the car, wincing as the sounds of plastic cracking reached her. There were no words to distract her from what was about to happen. No reservoir of restraint she could draw from. It had dried up, and she now faced the inevitable. Her full lips quivered and she raised her hands to cover her face, shielding herself from her own reflection in the rearview mirror. Her shoulders shook for a few seconds as she struggled for breaths, for composure. It didn't subside, though she slowly lowered her hands from her face and stared into the mirror. Her complexion was blotchy, blemished with tear stains and redness.

She wouldn't do this.

She wouldn't cry in an empty parking lot.

Callie turned her car on, unsure of how or when she had even managed to turn it off – and turned around. Her eyes burned from her outburst, the pain from the exchange eclipsing any other thoughts. The Latina tried her best to shut her mind off as she pulled onto a main road and made a left turn, without giving her actions a second thought. A few moments later, Callie found herself pulling into Addison's driveway, giving credence to the phrase "highway hypnosis". Perplexed as to how she managed to mindlessly traverse the city, she shrugged. She needed Addison. She needed…something. A phone charger, for starters.

* * *

"Excuse me, miss…"

Arizona slowly raised her drooped head and met the waitress' pitying gaze. "Yes?" She inquired, already aware of the conversation that would soon be taking place.

"If you're not going to order an entrée at this time, we are going to request that you allow us to clear your table. Our waiting area is over crowded as it is and we need to fill the table."

"Okay."

"Due to the inconvenience, the bar tab is on us for tonight. Please come back again soon."

Arizona pulled the napkin from her lap and tossed it onto the table before pushing her chair out and standing up. Nodding in acknowledgment at the younger girl, she sidestepped around to the other side of the table to allow herself an easy exit. "Oh, uh, thanks." Arizona was mumbling, trying her best to not look like a pathetic girl who had just gotten stood up.

"Oh, and – if he made you wait this long, he's probably not worth it."

The blonde snorted at the comment, unsure where the sound had come from. Whose audacity was more surprising? Callie's, for standing her up? Or the waitress for supplying Arizona with her minimally invasive commentary? She couldn't figure it out, so she simply smiled over her shoulder and made her way through the sea of tables, slipping out the front door and onto the sidewalk.

Feeling slighted, she did her best to alleviate the pain she felt from her severely bruised ego. Arizona Robbins didn't get stood up. If anything, she did the standing. Women used to be lining up for her! As she walked, she let that thought stew until she reached her car. After getting in, she pulled her phone out and hastily typed Callie a message.

**Arizona: If you wanted out then you should just have the guts to say so. I can take it!**

Not quite satisfied with her message, she dropped her phone into her car's cup holder and turned the key in the ignition. There was nothing she could do, except dust herself off. Her self-esteem would quickly be replenished, right? She had never been at a loss for it before, and one date gone awry wasn't about to drain her…even if Callie Torres was beautiful. And smart. And mesmerizing.

* * *

Addison leaned against her front door and held her hands up in front of her, waiting for the write moment to take action. It was difficult to calm a hysterical Callie down. It was an art. It required patience, skill, practice, and flawless execution. The taller skater was a whirlwind, bustling about the large room, making herself breathless. Addison took note on the decreasing pace of her friend. The strings of Spanglish sentences were slowed to a pace that she could somewhat understand, her hands gesturing with less theatrical movements. It was time to make her move. Addison inserted herself directly in front of Callie and placed her hands on her friend's shoulders, jerking her to a halt. "Callie!" She asserted, nodding in pride as Callie's mouth snapped shut. "Let's go for a walk, alright? You're upset. You can charge your phone here and we'll take a drive downtown and walk around so you can cool off."

Callie blinked, processing the information for a few seconds before her hand jolted up to cover her mouth. "Crap!"

"What?"

"I left Arizona at the restaurant."

"Your phone won't even turn on until it gets a charge in it. You'd probably scare her off right now. You're looking really red. Call and explain later. Or you know, don't explain. Because you won't tell anybody anything unless they torture it out of you."

Callie shrugged. "Fine."

"We'll take the Lexus. I'm not letting you drive when you look like you want to wrestle a gorilla."

Unable to contest with Monty, Callie simply nodded and followed her friend out the door.

The car ride to downtown Seattle was a short one, but Callie was too restless to care. Her hands wouldn't stop fidgeting, her nostrils flaring slightly as she recollected the conversation she'd had with her father. The pain that she had felt had evolved into anger, something she was much more equipped to deal with – even if her friends suggested otherwise.

* * *

Tim Robbins stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he walked, listening to the sound of his footfalls on the pavement. He was very rarely alone, and he relished moments like these, where there were no drill sergeants assessing his marching rhythm or screaming in his ear. Most of his free time was dedicated to Arizona and Nick, or some other small group of friends that were from his camp. While he and Arizona were both extremely extroverted, he couldn't deny that time to think on his own was a gift. He liked the outdoors, and he liked the sounds of the city. Cars passing by and the muffled chatter of other people on the streets was a far cry from horns, and gunfire, and whistles ringing in his ears. He smiled; the slight breeze blowing a littered soda can towards his feet. He stopped and bent down to pick the piece of trash up, and slowly stood, looking around for a garbage can.

Turning once on his heel, he looked behind him for some kind of trash collecting apparatus. When he found none, he turned back around quickly and took another step forward, keeping his eyes trained on the edge of the pavement. Before he knew it, there was a slight impact against his chest. He took a step back and looked in front of him, blinking. It took a moment to register what had happened, and he grimaced. "I'm sorry," he declared – before he realized who had been standing in front of him. Torres was staring at him, wide-eyed, as though she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. He raised a brow and looked to the side, spotting an alabaster hand resting on the skater's shoulder. "Torres?" He asked, just for confirmation. "And…" He looked to the redhead who was standing incredibly close to Callie. "I'm sorry, to both of you."

"Arizona's brother, hi…" Callie drawled, taking a small step away from Addison. She blinked, looking at Addison, who had her lips pressed together in a hard line. "Monty, this is Tim."

Addison nodded curtly and held out her hand. "Nice to meet you, Tim."

Tim nodded and took her hand, squeezing it tighter than necessary, before letting go. "Nice to meet you too, Monty."

He turned to Callie, who had seemed to distance herself from both him and Monty when he wasn't looking. "Hey, weren't you supposed to be going-" he started, but Callie quickly interjected.

"It was nice to see you, Tim. We gotta go!"

Callie grabbed Addison's wrist and tugged her away from Tim before scurrying down the street. "Crap, crap, crap…" She shook her head furiously and pulled them around the corner before she stopped, running a hand through her hair. "Monty…that was her brother. He knows we were supposed to be out tonight. And now we're together, and I'm so stupid!"

Addison laughed, pulling her keys from her pocket. "You could have just told him the truth instead of running away." Her eyes narrowed. "I'm not your dirty mistress, Callie. He probably thinks I am now."

"Take me home." Callie begged.

"Saying that doesn't help your case," she chuckled.

"Shut up. You sound like Mark. I have to fix this."

* * *

"Tim," Arizona started, her voice laced with suspicious sweetness. It was the voice she had used when she was fishing for information, and Tim gulped in anticipation. "Why do you look so guilty right now?" She asked, cocking her head to the side as she glowered at her brother, who had just walked through the door of the apartment she shared with Nick. Tim had a limited range of facial expression. He was smiling, smirking, or attempting to cover something up with a forced variation of his two other expressions. Right now, he was smiling with his mouth, but not with his eyes, and she knew that meant he had information he wanted to conceal, or that he had passed gas and was waiting for the smell to capture her attention. She sniffed the air cautiously, her expression growing grimmer as nothing assaulted her senses. "What did you do?"

Tim shoved his hands in his pockets and shrugged, silently cursing her ability to read his face. "I didn't do anything." He protested, growing uncomfortable from her relentless glaring.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty sure."

Arizona readjusted herself on the couch and crossed her legs, clicking the mute button on the television remote. If Callie were going to stand her up, then she'd have a date with American Bake Off instead. The show was a sweet mistress, never failing to come on when it promised to. "You don't look sure." She tried again. She wasn't going to give up that easily. Persistence was one of her strong suits. A pregnant pause settled between them, and Arizona rolled her eyes. "Tim!" She shouted, causing the marine to flinch. She grinned. Army men were creatures of habit, and she'd learned in her infancy that Tim would crumble the moment her voice raised an octave. He was trained, and he couldn't break the routine she had taken so much pride in establishing.

"I saw Torres downtown," he whispered, hanging his head in shame.

"What was that?" She demanded reiteration.

"I saw Callie downtown, walking with some hot, older looking red head."

The small blonde huffed, her hands balling into fists as she shook her head. "I can't believe her. She told me she was on her way to the restaurant." Her voice was thick with resentment that she reserved for special occasions. "I had to get dad to call in a favor just to get an expedited reservation."

"I'm sorry, Arizona. If it helps I think I scared her. She ran off pretty quickly."

"That doesn't help! That just means she's guilty," she spat.

"Wow. You've never been stood up before, have you?" Tim chuckled, a wry grin plastered on his face. "You've never had a girl ditch you. That's why you're sitting here looking like I just confessed to killing Clifford."

Arizona grabbed the pillow from the other side of the couch and threw it at Tim's face, the corner hitting his eye. "You're such a crap dog."

He blinked furiously and picked the pillow up off of the floor, throwing it back at her with lesser force. "How many girls did you stand up last year?" He asked, rhetorically. "So far you're winning. It's what? Six hundred to one now? That's a good record." He winked at her, knowing his attempt at highlighting her past would only serve to further enrage her.

"Get out of my apartment."

"Nope. Nick invited me over, and it's his apartment too."

"Nick isn't here right now. Go wait outside until he comes back," she countered, smirking.

"Nope. I'm going to sit right here." He plopped down on the opposite end of the sofa and kicked off his shoes.

"I'm not changing the channel just because you're here."

"Fine. I can watch a show about baking. I'm confident enough in my manhood hood to -"

"I don't want to hear anything about your manhood. Now shut up. They're making themed birthday cakes tonight." Arizona unmuted the television and stowed the remote far from the reach of her brother.

* * *

The moment Addison pushed her front door open, Callie plowed past her and into the living room, where her phone had been resting on a mahogany end table, charger cord running to the outlet on the wall just below. Her hands quickly fumbled with the device, fingers sliding along the edge to find the power button. Once she located the tiny treasure, she pressed it, harder than necessary, bouncing anxiously as it turned on. Callie's thumb moved across the touch screen, unlocking the device and navigating to the keypad menu. She had to call Arizona. Even emotionally exhausted, she knew she needed to settle things with the tiny blonde. No one deserved to be strung along and ditched. Not that she was stringing Arizona along. "Stupid phone," she grumbled, as the device began to tremor within her grip, voicemails and text messages flooding the system before she could even attempt to make an outgoing call.

Thirty-seconds later, the skater's mind was racing. After receiving three strongly worded text messages from her would-be date, her levels of guilt had skyrocketed and the all-familiar lump in her throat had resurfaced. When had it become _Crap on Callie Day_?

"Breathe." A soothing voice interrupted her thoughts, followed by a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You need to relax before you call her back or you're going to go off on a bilingual rant that only you understand."

"You're right." Callie sighed, slowing her finger movements to a halt before she nodded.

"Of course I am. Now, I'm going to get myself a glass of wine and wait for you to climb out of your grave."

Rolling her eyes, Callie sat down on the floor and pressed her back against the wall, dialing Arizona's number.

There was a lengthy pause from the moment Callie pressed the call button to the first ring, and she checked the screen to make sure she had adequate reception. When four bars indicated that she did, she settled back against the wall and waited, praying that the mechanical chimes would be replaced by the sweet, most likely angry voice of Arizona Robbins. The moment all hope was lost, a ring was interrupted by static, followed by a biting voice.

"What?"

"Hi…" Callie tried, her voice higher-pitched than usual.

"Hi."

"I wanted to apologize for tonight."

"No big deal." Arizona was faking her indifference, putting on a performance that greatly impressed her.

"It is. I didn't stand you up."

"It kind of seems like you did, Calliope."

Callie grimaced at the use of her full name, frustrated with herself, the situation, and her inability to hold back her verbal vomit. "I mean, I didn't mean to stand you up."

"Okay…"

"Something happened on the way to the restaurant and I couldn't…I just couldn't see you."

"But you could see someone else, right? You should just stick with the truth. It suits you much better."

The skater groaned. "The woman your brother saw me with is my wife." She stopped short, "Not my wife-wife. She's my derby wife. My uh- like my support. My best friend. And she's completely straight."

"That sucks for you," Arizona retorted.

"Arizona, please. My father called and we – I – Monty is the only person who can calm me down. I wanted to call you but my phone died and I couldn't remember your number."

The blonde furrowed her brow, concern overlapping with her anger. "Are you alright?" She asked, her voice softening slightly.

"I'm fine, yeah. I'm fine."

"Good."

Callie bit her lower lip, searching for something to make it right, somehow. The silence was killing her. She never liked silence, even as a child, and her disdain for the quiet had only increased with age.

"Let me make it up to you."

"I don't know. Maybe this has run its course. It was just a fling, something fun." Despite herself, Arizona couldn't believe her own words.

Swallowing the hurt Arizona had just inflicted upon her, Callie shrugged – trying to gather what confidence she had left. "Then what's one more day of fun? It can't hurt. I honestly didn't mean to bail on our date. It was a series of unfortunate events, which hey, that's what I'll title my memoir when I find the chance to write it. I called you as soon as my phone was charged, it's still charging."

"Okay," Arizona breathed.

"You won't regret it. I have the perfect idea," she fibbed, confident in her ability to find something awesome to do before their next date.

"I like donuts."

"What?"

"I like donuts. You want me to forgive you, don't bring me flowers. Bring me donuts."

Callie chuckled, her expression softening, as the conversation seemed to turn in her favor. "Donuts. Got it."

"No jelly, though. I hate the texture."

"Chocolate frosted?"

"Yes."

"I'll see you next Friday with a bouquet of Krispy Kreme?"

"Yes you will."

The Latina grinned, pulling the phone from her ear and ending the call. A sigh of relief came rushing out of her, the tension in her muscles loosening as she commended herself for her efforts. Another date, a second chance, and box of donuts were in her future. Everything beyond that; didn't matter. And that thought alone both terrified and elated her.

* * *

**AN: I have done a sufficient amount of research and planning for this next chapter. In fact, I have outlined twelve chapters beyond this with plenty more in sight! I hope you're still enjoying the story. This chapter may be a little lacking but I promise the next 3 will be very worth your while. **


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: **Hi guys. I'm so sorry that this update took so long. I had initially planned for the entire date to be one long chapter, but the more I wrote the more I realized that a super long chapter might not hold everyone's attention. So - the second half of the date will be included next chapter, along with some more plot progressions. There is also a tiny chance that there will be a rating change within the next few chapters.

* * *

Rain bounced off of the windowpane in a staccato rhythm, and Callie couldn't help but absent-mindedly tap the end of her pen against her desk in time with the falling rain. The office was relatively vacant today, scattered cubicles inhabited by other bored social workers that were staring at the mountains of paperwork that they needed to have completed by the end of the day. The ominous looking sky was momentarily illuminated by a shutter-flash across the horizon, and thunder clapped a few seconds after. As if cued by nature's awakening percussive styling, Callie dropped her pen and spun around on her swivel chair, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of her worker Bailey from over the short, strangely fuzzy cubicle wall. Her eyes fixed on a photograph of the woman and her boyfriend, an undeniably handsome man with a nearly perfect jaw line. She couldn't help but smile to herself. Bailey had someone who made her happy, or as happy as a Miranda Bailey could seem without sacrificing her sharp-wit and professionalism. It put her at ease to know that happiness so real, so brilliant, wasn't something exclusively granted to tall blondes with good boobs.

"Is there something you need Torres?" The inquiry pulled Callie from her gaze and she felt her cheeks warm as she realized she had been caught in the act of creepy-staring. Her eyes widened and she quickly turned around, training them on the papers that demanded her attention.

"No, nope," she replied coolly.

"Uh-huh."

Callie picked up her pen and bounced it against the face of the paper, her thoughts still fixated on the idea of a person who could make work, who could make anything unsavory, worthwhile. She thought she'd found it once or twice before, but she'd been wrong. She'd been wrong about a lot of things. Most things, now that she thought about it. It wasn't her fault. There was something deep inside of her that she could never get rid of. A fullness that left her unsatisfied. Her emotions so deep, with nowhere to go. Callie always loved too much, or too little – and one drought would turn into a series of overflows. It's hard to make the right choices when your heart is a faulty dam, subject to bursting without a moment's warning. That's how she got here, after all. Loving a financially thankless job too much. Not that money was everything. Callie believed in love and second chances, at least she tried to.

Second chances.

She dropped her pen and once again peeked over the cubicle wall. Her gaze bore into her coworker, her desire to talk radiating off of her in seismic waves. The emotions she had been recently afflicted with had been leaving her confused and scared more often than not, but Monty had been pushing her. Pushing her into a great big puddle of perky blonde.

"Don't be staring at me with those big brown eyes," a stern voice warned.

Callie's mouth twitched with the phantom of a smile as she refused to let her gaze falter.

"What is it?" Miranda surrendered, rolling her eyes and pushing herself away from her desk.

"I was supposed to go out with someone last week but my dad called and I never showed up and I promised her that I would make it up to her on our date tomorrow but I don't know what to do and I don't have any idea how I'm going to plan something great in less than twenty-four hours. I…I enjoy her and –"

Miranda raised her hand and shook it. "I'm going to stop you right there at the word _enjoy_. I don't need to know you that well. I don't want to know you that well. At all."

Callie's expression fell, eliciting another exasperated eye roll from her superior.

"You need to stop looking at me like that, I have a four year old – I can play this game."

At that, Callie slowly settled herself back down into her chair, only to quickly shuffle her feet across the floor and around to Bailey's cubicle. Propping her elbows up on the other woman's desk, Callie did her best to emulate a puppy, her eyes glistening from beneath the fluorescents.

"Alright, fine."

"Yay!" Callie cheered, raising her fist in the air excitedly, only to lower it back down in defeat when Miranda shot her a dirty look.

"You like this person, this woman. You want to woo her." She cast a glance over her shoulder and looked out the window. "You ain't gonna woo any woman in weather like this."

"You're not helping," Callie whined.

"Take her out, Torres. Away from the city. There's nothing romantic about rain in Seattle. The novelty is gone."

"But…"

"No! That's all you're going to get from me."

Callie sighed, her tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth as she let her coworker's advice sink in. The older woman was right. Even if Arizona had neglected to call her after their first meeting, Callie had somewhat bailed on their date. It was entirely her fault, but she understood the fear of rejection all too well. Rolling her way back to her desk, Callie dove into her paperwork with a renewed sense of vigor. The quicker she completed her tasks, the sooner she'd be able to research the weather in neighboring cities. What better way to make up for not being able to get across town for a girl than to take her out of the town all together? She breezed through the paperwork and reviewed cases that she might need to visit in the future, and quickly turned her attention to the computer screen.

Unsure of how much time had passed since she had embarked on her journey of tourist attractions in Washington, Callie was oblivious to the small body that lingered just behind her until she rolled backwards a few inches, stopping before her legs could fully extend. Jumping slightly, she turned around, meeting a slightly amused Miranda. "You're going to take her there? Huh."

"What's huh? Huh? It's supposed to be nice!"

"I'd never peg you for type, that's all."

"Type for what?"

"The type to be willing to wake up at the crack of dawn without an obligation," Miranda joked, her shoulders shaking from her amusement.

Callie grunted and shook her head. "I can get up early!"

"That's because you're getting paid to."

"She's all the incentive I need."

"Oh, no, no. We're not having this conversation, goodnight."

Both women turned away from each other, eyes crinkled at the corners from the smiles on their faces.

* * *

Arizona's eyes threateningly narrowed as she watched Callie's hand possessively close over the key ring, and she folded her hands across her chest, an innocent smile betraying the glare she was casting in the other woman's direction. Her lips twitched, and Callie simply shook her head, answering the blonde's silent question.

"Please!"

"Nope."

"Please!"

"Not a chance."

"You stood me up."

"You didn't call for two weeks."

"You're supposed to be wooing me."

"I brought you donuts."

"And I ate them. Now I want to drive."

"Nobody drives her except for me."

"I know how to drive! I used to steal my brother's Camaro all the time when we were kids."

"That's not at all comforting, Arizona."

"I never crashed it."

Callie rolled her eyes and chuckled, as though Arizona's argument was reassuring. "And you're not about to crash my baby."

"Just for a little? Please."

"Nope. I'm driving."

"Just let me drive for twenty miles. You said it's a long drive right?"

"Ten miles."

"Fifteen."

"Five miles."

"Alright! Fine. Ten miles."

The skater loosened her grip on her keys, exposing the metallic gems on her palm. Her eyes bounced between the keys and her car, each a look of adoration, before she sent a cautionary leer towards Arizona. The blonde simply bounced on her toes in excitement, scrambling to catch the keys as Callie tossed them in her direction. After an embarrassing bout of fumbling, she gathered the keys in her hands and ran towards the driver's side of the car before Callie could change her mind.

"Don't make me regret this, Robbins."

"Trust me! I'm going to be a doctor, you know."

"Yeah, yeah. And you're going to beg your patients to let you cut them open, right?"

"Exactly," Arizona grinned just as Callie settled herself in the passenger's seat.

"Just drive before I decide that that look in your eye is more terrifying than cute," she grumbled.

Arizona knew that the gift that had been bestowed upon her wasn't one to waste, and she swiftly turned the key in the ignition and shuddered with unbridled joy as the engine of the T-Bird purred. Not only did the opportunity to drive satiate her need to control every situation, but it also gave her the chance to drive a rarity in the current automotive industry; a well maintained classic car. Her brother would be proud. Her feet felt heavy, and it took her a moment to adjust to the clutch-gas relationship, but she adapted – and they had quickly found themselves on the highway, taking the exit West when Callie urged her to do so.

The highway was pleasantly unpopulated; the Washington residents were savoring the early morning by remaining in their beds. The emptiness prompted Arizona to speed up, pushing both of their bodies against the seats as the odometer crept upwards faster and faster. The blonde's eyes remained on the road, following the lines with each curve of the asphalt path. A hand on her thigh pulled her attention from the road for a millisecond, causing her dimples to deepen as she cleared her throat in attempt to steer her mind elsewhere. Without her noticing, Arizona's desires to return Callie's gentle touch had manifested into something else, a lead foot.

"Arizona…" Callie finally began, her voice laced with something resembling caution.

"I know ten miles is up but –"

"No, Arizona…pull over."

"What? Why?"

"Just listen to me," the brunette replied, and Arizona lifted her foot from the gas pedal. As the engine's roar went down a few decibels, another sound pierced her eardrums and she swallowed.

Sirens.

"That's why," Callie muttered, knowing that Arizona had figured out why she needed to pull over, and quickly.

"Oh."

The student quickly pulled the vehicle onto the shoulder and turned the car off, waiting for the police officer to approach them. Arizona nibbled nervously on her bottom lip and placed her hands on the steering wheel, gripping it tightly until the color fled from her knuckles. She bowed her head for a moment and took a deep breath, tuning out the faint sounds of Callie's laughter at her apparent overreaction. The skater hadn't seen nothin' yet.

The top of the convertible was down, and Arizona was thankful for the fact that she didn't need to fumble with a window mechanism in order to speak to the cop. As he peered down at her through tinted sunglasses, she felt her eyes go dry…the way the ocean swallows the waters from the shore before a tsunami hits. She braced herself.

"Ma'am, do you know why I pulled you over?"

The blonde nodded, tufts of golden hair falling in her face. "I wa- I was speeding," she stammered.

"And do you know how fast you were going?"

Arizona shook her head, keeping her eyes away from the police officer.

"I'm going to need your license and registration." He stated, deciding to break the awkward silence that had settled between him and the two women.

Callie moved forward to pull the registration from the glove box, handing it over to Arizona, whose hands were trembling as she took the papers from her date.

"I'm sorry," Arizona mumbled, eliciting puzzled looks from both the cop and Callie.

"What?" They both asked in unison, and Arizona turned her whole body towards the cop, her shoulders moving up and down as she struggled to maintain control over her facial movements. Before she could do anything to stop it, her cheeks were wet with tears, eyebrows knit together in agony and embarrassment.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- to speed. I'm sorry officer. I just…" She coughed, her tears strangling her as she struggled to speak.

The cop took a few steps back. "It's okay. I'm going to uh, just try to watch your speed, okay? Have a nice day."

"Thank you officer," Arizona sobbed, waving weakly as he returned to his squad car.

The two women watched as the police officer's Crown Victoria sped past them on the highway, and Callie began to laugh, smacking her palm against Arizona's thigh once again. The blonde refused to meet the other woman's stare, and she sniffled loudly, wiping her face with the back of her hand – her face hot from the tears and from the aftershocks of embarrassment that often consumed her after the meltdowns she occasionally succumbed.

"That was amazing," Callie commented. "That was impressive. I'm impressed. Do you do that often?"

Arizona slowly turned to look at Callie, eyes red and glossy. "I have authority issues," she whined, her words broken up between residual dry sobs.

Deciding that laughter would not be the best course of action, Callie smiled, raising a hand to Arizona's cheek. The pad of her thumb moved across a trail of moisture that glistened on her otherwise unblemished skin. "You're awesome," she beamed, and unbuckled her seatbelt to slide closer to Arizona. "And you're getting this for your troubles…" Callie pressed her lips against Arizona's, tasting the familiar saltiness of tears on her mouth. She deepened the kiss, determined to remove any sign of Arizona's sadness, fear, whatever it was that had caused the woman to stutter, and replace it with a memory. Something better. Her hand remained on Arizona's cheek, thumb moving across the soft expanse of skin as she pulled away. "But I'm totally not letting you drive anymore."

Arizona didn't have it in her to protest, Callie had made her too dizzy to drive anyway.

* * *

If there was one thing Callie Torres prided herself on, it was her ability to stand her ground. Even when there was an incessant chorus of begging, she wouldn't falter. She had made it abundantly clear that their final destination was a surprise. Arizona had made it clear that she hated surprises, but Callie wouldn't give in. The blonde had stopped her questioning after half an hour, when Callie decided to turn the radio on to a channel that was dedicated to strictly broadcasting 80's songs. Arizona seemed to have a thing for Cyndi Lauper's music. They bargained, Callie agreeing not to question the content of Arizona's character based on her music taste, as long as Arizona stopped asking where they were going. It worked out extremely well, especially when they passed the sign at the entrance of their date location.

Leavenworth.

"I've always wanted to come here!"

The skater grinned as they eased the car into a parking spot at the center of the town, which was modeled after a Bavarian village. The architecture was more angular than she was accustomed to, with brick and wood joining together to create the focal points of each building, whether it be a rounded arch or a hand carved balcony. It wasn't Callie's style, but she could appreciate artistic structuring when she saw it. Arizona's blue eyes were bouncing from window to window as she observed each storefront. The town had been constructed out of novelty, a last chance to boost the town's economy, and judging by the astonishment in the medical student's eyes, Callie figured that they had succeeded.

"You know I think that window shopping requires one to actually get out of the car," Callie teased – pushing her door open and stepping out. She hustled around the car and opened Arizona's door.

"Why? There are windows in the car," Arizona countered.

Callie opened her mouth to deliver a thoughtful quip, but she was soon stunned into silence by the blonde's lightening fast reflexes and sensory recognition. A gentle breeze had pushed a cacophony of decadent scents down the sidewalk, wafting into their noses and triggering the rapid response from Arizona. Turning on her heel, Callie watched as her date bounded up the curb and onto the sidewalk, excitedly motioning for her to follow her to the bakery, despite the fact that she had consumed more donuts than the skater thought possible just a few hours prior. She quickly closed her door and took a few steps towards Arizona, stopping to stand behind her for a few seconds. Their eyes met, and Callie felt her hand being captured, her fingers pried apart and the spaces filling with warmth she didn't know she craved. Her gaze fixed between them, eyes trailing along the length of their arms and falling into their intertwined fingers.

Brown eyes softened, beaming – to match the smile that had plagued her features. Arizona tilted her head and observed the shift in Callie's expression, unsure of why the brunette seemed to be so surprised by the gesture. Their hands joining was the most natural thing in the world, Arizona's smaller hands felt secure, cradled, in Callie's slightly larger but equally feminine grip. There hadn't been a choice; there was a magnetism that neither of them could fight. The medical student could feel it – their physicality was just as natural as their verbal sparring sessions; it just happened so perfectly, there wasn't even the option to oppose the motion.

The bakery proved to be eclectic, catering to tourists and residents alike. The extensive nature of their menu was the cause for much deliberation for Callie and Arizona, though they both opted to try the scones. Callie offered to pay for both of theirs, but Arizona bargained with her – and they wound up paying for each other's second breakfast, laughing at themselves for annoying the cashier with their playful financial argument. As they exited the inside of the bakery, they took bites of their scones, then swapped, offering the other a bite before they even had the chance to sit down at the small bistro tables they had spotted a few paces down the block. As she sat, Callie surveyed Arizona's expression and grinned.

"Have I made up for blowing you off yet?"

"Maybe."

"Just maybe, huh?"

"Yup. I'm going to have to see whether or not you let me win when we go to the arcade."

"Who said we were going to the arcade?"

"I did. And you – when you were talking to the baker when you thought I wasn't listening."

"Right. I did say that, didn't I?"

"You did…but I'm warning you now Calliope, I'm competitive. I like to win. And when I win, I like to have something to show for it."

"Something like what?"

"I can't tell you. You're just going to have to wait and see."

"You're cocky aren't you?"

"Nope. I'm right, and I'm awesome."

* * *

**AN:** Thank you for reading! Reviews are always welcome, but your attention is enough to keep me going. :) I apologize if this chapter was slow. I've been struggling with my muses lately. (I blame the lack of Calzona on my screen.)


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: **Thank you all for the reviews and comments! I promise that a little bit of what everyone is looking for is in the cards...eventually. I have a lot of this story all mapped out, it's just a matter of writing it to your satisfaction.

* * *

Nimble fingers wrapped around the taut nub, slowly pinching it with increased pressure. Callie caught her bottom lip between her teeth, and Arizona groaned from just a few inches away, her heated breath tickling Callie's neck. Thin veils of perspiration were forming on the women's foreheads, and their fingers instinctively traced lines over the bumps and valleys that stood in their way. "Mmm, yes!" Callie managed to speak out, releasing her lip from between her teeth as the words jostled Arizona into frenzy, her small surgically suited fingers pressing down and releasing the pressure they'd created quickly. "C'mon baby," she skater whispered, curling her fingers slowly – eliciting yet another groan from the blonde.

"Did you seriously just call your ninja guy baby?" Arizona asked, hoping that conversation would distract Callie from their fourth round of Mortal Kombat. They were playing for the best three out of four games, and Callie already had two tucked under her belt. The medical student felt ashamed of her lack of skills – Callie didn't even have a brother to teach her the basics of the game!

"…I might have," Callie finally replied, moving the toggle to the right – and pressing the small red button on the soon-to-be retro standing console, a string of jabs connecting with the jaw of Arizona's character.

"Do you sweet talk all your video games?"

"I try to make it a habit," she replied casually, her brow furrowing in concentration.

"Let me know how that works out for you," Arizona grinned, her fingers moving in quick succession, sending her character through the air with an extended leg, one that drove into the torso of Callie's character. Her eyes flashed over to the life indicator bar on Callie's side of the screen, a smirk threatening to present itself. She never had been good at keeping a poker face intact. Instead, she decided to act, to go all in before Callie could figure out what hit her. Another indecipherable combination of button pressing, and Arizona's character was sending icy daggers through the air, daggers that quickly brought Callie's ninja to his knees, heading rolling in circles before he fell to the ground.

"It looks like we're tied…" Callie played, raising a brow as she stared down at her companion. She'd walk out of the arcade if Arizona wanted to, but she wasn't one to walk away from a tie. She needed to win. She saw walking away from a draw as a forfeit, and Callie Torres wasn't a quitter when it came to games and competition…even if it was a modernized video game that had been modified to emulate the arcade games of years gone by. A game was a game. She didn't have her skates on, or a mouth guard in – but she felt the need to break through the pack, or in this case, the wall of stats. 2-2.

"It seems like that, huh." The blonde licked her lips and allowed her smirk to resurface, before reaching into Callie's pocket and pulling out a few quarters. "One more game? You're paying!" Arizona didn't need a response from Callie, she could tell by the small fire that brightened the taller woman's eyes that walking away without naming a victor was not an option.

Callie watched as Arizona slipped the quarters into the coin slot, and shook out her arms like a boxer in between rounds. It took a moment for her to collect herself and refine her game face. She could see Arizona's amusement, and while it was adorable, she was preparing herself for victory. There was no way a perky blonde with dimples as deep as the ocean was going to beat her at a game where violence and homicide was celebrated…it just wouldn't sit well with her. As she pressed the button that confirmed her participation in the game, she snorted – a thought hitting her as more humorous than it probably was.

"What's funny, Callie?" Arizona inquired expectantly, running her tongue along her bottom lip as she gave her date the best authoritative look she could muster.

"Nothin'. It's just…you're going to school to become a doctor, but you're scary good at violent video games."

"I grew up surrounded by my brother and his friends, it would be a disgrace if I let you win."

"Alright then. Game on." Callie winked and refocused her attention on the console screen, keeping her character away from Arizona's while she figured out her strategy. The one Arizona had used on her seemed to work, talking to serve as a distraction. She could use that to her advantage and turn the tables. The rush of competition warmed her; her blood seemed to pump through her veins at accelerated speeds, though not literally. As much as she wanted to play doctor with Arizona she didn't actually want to _need_ to play doctor with Arizona.

There they stood, poised for action. Their eyes were fixed on the same visual content, each flipping through their mental playbooks in attempt to outsmart the other. Their characters hung in the balance.

On the left an incredibly well muscled man shifted his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet, fists raised defensively – anticipating a blow from his attacker. His offensively mustard colored, Samurai inspired…skirt hung freely between his legs, pixels shifting side to side from his movements. On the opposing side on the panel stood a slight woman with a pixie-like haircut and arms that were no larger in circumference than a moderately sized twig. There was a glow about her, a light blue aura that traced her outline. Callie chose to ignore her quite literally frosted tips, passing up the chance to make a Justin Timberlake joke in order to further her status in the game. There were more important things to focus on, like the rich color of the character's fighting garb.

"Hey Arizona…" Callie trailed off, pushing her character closer to Arizona's while she spoke. "Your character, I like the color of her dress." Her dark eyes quickly flashed to Arizona, who acknowledged her wearily. "It's bright, and blue. The light reflects off of it when you move her and it looks brighter…" she trailed off again, inching her ninja closer to Arizona's tiny warrior woman. "It's the same color of your eyes," she finally finished, grinning when Arizona turned to fully look at her. Callie took the chance to send her character into a fury of one-two punch combinations, laughing when Arizona hip checked her for her dirty tactics.

"That's not fair!" Arizona shouted.

"What? I meant it. Your eyes are…well, the only reason I can spend so much time not looking at you when you're this close to me is because that dress is the exact color of your eyes." Callie felt Arizona's hip bump into hers once again, though she barely moved from the contact. "You realize that you hip-checking me won't distract me, right?" She sent her man towards Arizona's again, a chain like weapon extending from his palm and puncturing the glowing woman. "I get hip checked by women much bigger than you several hours a week."

"Should I be jealous?"

Callie paused. Was there a right answer for this question? She wasn't sure she could answer it. She didn't have enough information, or time to properly assess the situation. They were on a date, yes. They were having fun, yes. But jealousy was an emotion that often traveled with a trailer full of emotional maladies. Instead, her thoughts seemed to manifest and her character retreated from Arizona's to give her time to regroup. It only took a few seconds, and she was back on track – controlling her mustardy-man mercilessly. "Nope," she squeaked, closing her eyes as she cleared her throat. "Nah, you smell much better than they do," she finally corrected herself, laughing at the truth in the statement. Callie pushed a button that controlled the jumping kick mechanism, but her character remained on the ground. She pressed again, flicking the toggle with her fingers. Her character was motionless, pixels forming in the center of his body. A glitch.

"I can play dirty on the playground too, Calliope. Ready?" Arizona taunted, pushing her character towards Callie's frozen one, unleashing her virtual wrath. Just as the glitch fixed itself, the skater attempted to reciprocate the moves, but her eyes widened as she watched her life-bar shrink into oblivion.

"You beat me on a technicality!"

"Nope. You changed the game when you started flirting to distract me. This win is fair."

The brunette grunted, unable to accept her defeat and turned away from the game. She took a step forward, but stopped herself when she felt a warm hand sliding down her forearm, delicate fingers wrapping around her wrist. The touch was the only thing that could remedy Callie's lack of sportsmanship, and she turned around grinning. "You think just because you one you can just grab me like that?"

Arizona raised her free hand to stroke her chin. "Ummm…yup. 'Cause now you have to give me my prize, remember?" She shifted her weight to one foot and placed a hand on her hip, locking eyes with the taller woman. Little by little, one corner of Arizona's lip curled into a devious smirk, one that was promising to make an extended stay on her delicate features. Her idea had been conceived while they were walking through the city earlier in the day. While they were window-shopping, she was lucky enough to peer into a costume shop that sold commercialized versions of traditional Bavarian clothing and other knickknacks.

"How do you feel about suspenders?" The blonde smiled innocently and slowly blinked while awaiting Callie's response.

"I'd probably feel better about them if I was an eighty year old man," Callie ventured, peering at Arizona's through squinted eyes. "Why?"

"Since I won, you're going to take me to the clothing store down the street and you're going to put on some lederhosen. Then you're going to let me take lots of pictures."

"Nope. No. Absolutely not," she protested, taking several steps away from Arizona, who was already inching closer to her.

* * *

It wasn't an easy feat for Callie to keep her eyes trained on the strip of pine-lined asphalt that was laid out before her. A string of giggles was demanding her attention, and she couldn't hush the temptation. She had never been good at self-control, or ignoring attention that was being placed on her, whether it was positive or negative. In high school, she still hadn't learned how to harness her assets, and she presented herself to her peers in a series of cringe-worthy awkward moments. Hair in her mouth, angry outbursts, pencils chewed into splinters from the oral fixations she seemed to come down with when her anxiety ran too high – they didn't make for a good adolescent experience. College had served her well, though she knew she'd never fully get rid of the gnawing in her stomach when she felt as though she was being taunted.

"Stop laughing at me!" The words came out in a stretched out whine, her voice laced with a desperation that only seemed to encourage Arizona. She really did play dirty.

"I'm not laughing I'm just exercising my zygomatic muscles and demonstrating healthy lung and larynx utilization."

"That's medical student talk for laughing, Arizona. I've taken an anatomy class."

"Fine. I'm laughing, but can you blame me?"

"I can blame you. It's your fault that I look like a confused leprechaun! You didn't even let me wear the sexy one."

"I wanted to see if you could make it sexy."

"Ooh," Callie raised a brow and turned her head to quickly glance at Arizona. "Did I make it sexy?"

"You might be making some of my Octoberfest fantasies come true." Arizona shrugged, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "But it's still funny. Because you're driving in it."

"You were being all gloaty, it was the only way I could shut you up." Callie lifted one of her hands off of the steering wheel to swat at the blonde.

"Hey! Both hands on the wheel, Torres."

The rebel in her interpreted Arizona's demand as an invitation to be defiant, so she raised her hand off of the steering wheel once more to swat the blonde again. Callie's hand landed on Arizona's stomach, her fingertips lightly bouncing off of her firm abdomen. The blonde flinched and giggled, then quickly covered her mouth in hopes of silencing her laughter before it reached Callie's ears. It was too late, and Callie smacked her lips together and adjusted herself in her seat, glancing at her date in her peripheral vision.

"Oh oh. Ticklish are we?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Arizona lifted her chin and crossed her arms around herself as she replied.

"I'm just going to have to find out before I drop you off tonight."

"Good luck with that. I won't let those wiggling fingers within ten feet of me once I step foot outside this car."

"We'll see about that."

* * *

Arizona's shoulder blades hit the floor of her apartment, jerking her body into a rigid position as she struggled to come to terms with the impact her head was soon to make with the hard surface. There was always a moment, right before final impact, where a person was faced with the choice to accept the pain they were about to be in, or reject it – and risk further damage. Arizona had accepted the imminent pain and squeezed her eyes shut. Her head jerked back and she opened her mouth, sucking in an anticipatory gasp right before the back of her head bounced off of…something soft. That wasn't right, was it? The blonde slowly opened her eyes and found herself staring into the soulful eyes of Callie Torres, who was hovering over her, brown hair hanging off the skater and tickling Arizona's sensitive cheeks.

"Nice reflexes," Arizona commented, lifting her head up and looking over her shoulder to see what her head had landed on. Callie's hand was still curled into a cradling position.

"Thanks," she breathed out, suddenly very aware of her position on top of the blonde. Their tickling war, something that they had been battling for the better portion of two weeks, was reaching its climax. The furniture had been collateral damage, being pushed and slid across the floor as Arizona attempted to escape from Callie's hands. Tonight, an ottoman had acted against the blonde, tripping her and Callie as they ran around the living room. The athlete had managed to fall on top of the blonde, slipping her hand behind the other woman to prevent a potentially damaging head injury. "When I was fresh-meat they taught us how to fall," she grinned, pushing her hips down slightly and moving against the smaller woman, just for fun.

"They taught you how to straddle the person you fell on?"

"Umm no. You're just lucky that I know what you like. But they did teach us to never fall on our ass. Something you could stand to learn." Callie bit her bottom lip and raised a brow suggestively as she slowly pulled herself off of Arizona and into an upright position. She looked down at the blonde and slowly offered a hand to pull her up, allowing her fingers to dance along Arizona's palm as she released her grip. The gesture didn't go unnoticed by Arizona, whose eyes seemed to darken the moment they touched.

"Maybe you could teach me both methods. The straddling and the – other stuff." The student sighed dreamily at the thought and subconsciously took a step closer to Callie, grabbing the lapels of her leather jacket and pulling her closer, before tugging her down for a kiss. She'd always been much better at using her tongue for things that didn't involve talking, and from what she had learned in their weeks of increasingly hot kisses – so was Callie. A moan stirred in the Latina's throat, creating soft vibrations against Arizona's lips when she deepened the kiss. Arizona's hands quickly pushed the jacket down Callie's shoulders, catching it by the sleeve before it fell to the floor and tossing it onto the couch. Callie, impressed by the blonde's own demonstration of quick reflexes, tightly gripped Arizona's hips and pulled her close enough to feel the rise and fall of her chest against her own. She could feel Callie's hands moving down to the swell of her back and over the gentle curve of her ass. "Mmm," was all she could manage, her tongue too busy to help her articulate what she was feeling.

It had been almost two weeks since they had gone to Leavenworth, and Arizona's brief reprieve from her intense academic schedule was coming to a close. Hours seemed as though they had been reduced to mere minutes when Callie was around – and she had been, quite often. Arizona barely realized that they had fallen into a routine of sorts. They would go out, and they would go home, they would have an intense tickle fight that often ended in a draw, and they would kiss until their lungs screamed for oxygen while other parts of them screamed for…more than oxygen. Tonight was different. The other nights, the kisses weren't as searing. There was an element of control that seemed to originate from Callie, and Arizona could do nothing but happy (and anxiously) respect the control she seemed to be exercising. More often than not, Callie would pull away and make a teasing comment the instant a moaned passed through either of their lips but tonight…any sound Arizona made seemed to encourage the brunette, and she was in no mood to stop the encouragement. In an instant of bravery, the soles of Arizona's feet left the floor and her legs wrapped around Callie's waist. Receptive to the movement, Callie's hands adjusted to support Arizona's weight while she slowly moved across the floor. Arizona's arms wrapped around the back of Callie's neck, her teeth grazing the skater's bottom lip as they moved. It didn't take long for Callie to find a wall, something to give her leverage. Arizona's hand moved into Callie's hair, grabbing a fistful of chestnut locks and pulling Callie's mouth against hers with more force than she intended on using.

"Whoa," a voice interrupted, causing both women to break their kiss.

"Nick!" Arizona cried – her tone an adamant protest and Callie took a step away from the back and released her grip on a reluctant Arizona. With a huff and a pout, Arizona unwrapped her legs from around Callie's waist and stepped around the taller woman to glare at her roommate. "You said you weren't coming home tonight!"

"I'm sorry I was trying to be quiet and I swear I was just going straight to my room and then I came into the living room and things were definitely not straight…" He chuckled at his choice of words, before continuing, "I tried not to look but you and her and the wall and…"

"Go to your room."

"Fine, but you should really think about getting ready for school tomorrow because I'm pretty sure that one professor hates you and if you're late to his class again-"

"Go!"

Nick snapped his mouth shut and scurried into his bedroom, slamming the door shut and locking it, more to keep himself in and out of temptations way than anything else.

"You have him trained very well," Callie observed, nudging Arizona playfully.

"Yeah well…we went through a lot of rolled up newspaper to get to where we are now – but I'd call it a success."

"Me too. Maybe I can hire you to train Mark like that. He's a harder horse to break and I'm getting my animal metaphors mixed up now so I'm just going to do this again…" Callie trailed off and grabbed Arizona, kissing her quickly, but softly before her rambling got the best of her.

"Good idea," Arizona mumbled when she pulled away, licking her lips, hoping to find a hint of Callie lingering on them. "Nick's right though, you know."

"About what?"

"School. Medical school is hard. It's rigorous and it's vicious. I never thought I'd have a girlfriend while I was doing this."

Arizona didn't regret what she had said, not immediately. The blonde was too wrapped up in how natural the word felt rolling off of her tongue to recognize the fear that was pulling Callie's eyelids apart. A small smile even threatened to form on the student's mouth as she replayed her slip-up in her mind. It took the sound of Callie's verbal deficit to break her out of her stupor. The skater had been standing there, her mouth hanging open slightly. "Uhhh," reverberated through Arizona's ears like a dial tone on an old telephone, and her eyes slid across the floor, fixing on Callie's bare feet. She noticed how Callie's toes were curled, drawn inward as though the smaller parts of her had retreated in fear. Blue orbs slid up the brunette's legs, which her locked in a perfectly straight position. Hands were dropped to her sides, fingers mimicking the frightened curling of her toes. It didn't take long for Arizona to finish the rest of her observations. Callie's eyes were a dark storm, Arizona's slip up at the eye of the disaster.

"Right. Um. Yeah." Callie was stammering, the confidence and good-natured disposition she had been cultivating immediately seeping out of her pores and evaporating in the suddenly chilled air of Arizona's living room. She wasn't ready. After her last relationship, Callie had realized that no matter what – she always felt ready. Her heart had always been twenty-steps ahead of her brain, and it got her into trouble. It got her into the liquor cabinet for a drink too many; it got her into a puddle Kleenex. It got her into a realm of hurt that she wasn't equipped to traverse any time soon. Callie knew she couldn't trust herself anymore. She knew that if she felt ready, she wasn't ready. There was too much to risk when it came to the dimples medical student, because Callie felt ready. Really ready. Very ready. And it was terrifying. It was risky. It was something Callie wouldn't dare to touch. Not this time. Not again. "Oh wow, it's already eleven."

Arizona rolled her eyes, recognizing the shift in mood. "Yup."

"What time is your class tomorrow?"

"Eight."

Callie ignored the shortness of Arizona's responses and continued fishing for a way out of the mess she'd made. "You should uh- you should probably get some sleep, huh?"

With a curt nod, Arizona propped her hands on her hips. "Yeah. You know what? I'm exhausted. You should go."

"Okay, g'night!" The skater sighed and bolted to the door, pulling it open and crossing through the threshold like it was the jammer line on the second whistle blow.

* * *

**AN: **I think this chapter was full of teases. I couldn't help myself. But man, what's up with Callie? These characters are a little damaged, a little confused. It happens to the best of them. Rating change next chapter! For language...for mysterious things! Reviews are always appreciated. AND - if you're in the mood for something different and you haven't already, I wrote a one shot that is very different from this story. (Sorry, is that a shameless plug? Or a shameful one, since I'm apologizing for it.) xoxo


	10. Chapter 10

Callie quickly turned her head to glance over both of her shoulders, her senses overwhelmed by the sounds of the stampede of women who were trailing behind her. Wheels pounding against the floor, driving her to push harder, crossover faster – anything to get around and through the pack one more time. Her jamming needed improvement. She knew that the women behind her would play beside her on any other night – but scrimmages were different. They played like opposing strangers on scrimmage nights, pushing each other to their limits in order to stretch out their skills, hoping that the improvements would stick.

Needing the encouragement, the reminder, Callie raised her hand and ran the pads of her fingers along the seams of her jammer panty, the faint outline of the star's top point tickling the sensitive skin.

She dropped her hand back down and pulled her elbows in. In the moment she had taken to collect herself, the pack had caught up to her, a blocker's breath tickling the back of her neck – and in an instant – the sensation was gone. The gentle breeze that had kissed the back of her neck was replaced by something much more invasive. Her olfactory senses were assaulted by the familiar scent of another woman's sweat, Tacky's, and her pads were in some serious need of washing.

"Jesus Christ, it's time to burn those things," she huffed, taunting the other woman as she struggled for advancement.

A sharp pain jolted Callie to the side, pushing her dangerously close to the inside line of the track – and she struggled to remain in bounds. She shook her head and focused on the movement of her feet and inhaled deeply, trying to catch her breath before another full-bodied hit pushed the oxygen from her wanton lungs. The skater squatted lower, finding her balance and keeping her center of gravity in check. The problem had been in how comfortable she was being taller than the other women. Tacky's blocks had rocked her, and she knew she'd be counting the bruises that would be peppered along her skin from the blocker's bony shoulders the next day – but she wouldn't be knocked down.

A body skated directly in front of her, and Callie attempted to juke around the other woman, only to meet a solid wall of two other blockers who were working in tandem, straining to push her out of bounds.

It was working.

Her eyes widened as she realized the reality of her situation, her chin dipping down to watch her feet, along with the small army of other skate-clad feet that had her surrounded. They were rapidly approaching a bend in the track, the second turn – and she could jump, or she could eat it. She could take the points she had already racked up and call it a day, or she could take a leap, take a risk. She picked her right foot off of the ground slightly, tempting herself to jump – but she quickly stomped it back on the floor.

"God damn it, Torres!" Mark wasn't shy when it came to making his whooping grievances known to the world around him. "Jump! You're killing me." As he shouted his instructions, his bellow met imminent resignation and he dropped the clipboard that he had been clutching in his side to the ground below, watching as a few sheets of paper escaped the metal clasp and slid across the wooden floor. "You need to jump!" He tried again, more for his own sake than for Callie's – and shook his head as she was pushed over the inside line and into the center of the track.

She dropped down to one knee, the plastic of her pads on the polished wood providing more friction than her wheels and stopping her right at Mark's impressively large feet. Callie bit down on her mouth guard, grinding her teeth against the molded plastic in frustration. Jutting out the lower portion of her jaw, she clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and slowly looked up – meeting Mark's freakishly parental gaze.

It was the look she had always dreaded as a child. The one that said _you're in trouble, and I'm very disappointed in you_. She had received it on more than one occasion as a child, and even more in her adult years. The look had turned into the memory Callie held of her father. It wasn't his laughter, or the smell of his aftershave. It was the burning she felt under his lens. It was the anger dripping from his voice on their last phone call.

"You're way too good at that look," she commented, grabbing his hand to give herself leverage as she stood up. Callie feebly attempted to smile, but Mark had already seen the sadness creep across her eyes. His expression softened in apology, but he chuckled instead of verbally commenting on her lapse of emotional strength.

"What look?"

"The dad look. " The blood fled Mark's face, washing him out and seemingly bleaching his skin to an unsavory shade of white at Callie's clarification. A cackle passed through her lips and she punched him in the shoulder. "Relax. I didn't say you were a father, yet. If you keep it up with Lexipedia though…"

"Stop talking, Torres. I know what you're doing."

"I'm not doing anything."

"You are! You're distracting me with sex and babies."

"I didn't say anything about sex, Mark."

"You mentioned Lexie."

"Lexie isn't sex."

"But Lexie gives me sex."

"Who here hasn't given you sex?" Callie challenged him, turning around slowly to scan the scattered groups of women that were skating around them.

"Torres, stop."

Callie huffed and switched positions, straining her well-toned calves and standing on her toe stops. She hopped in place as Mark looked at her expectantly, her eyes bouncing from every fixture she could find. She knew that once she made eye contact, Mark was going to do one of two things: beg her to jump, or give her a pep talk filled with innuendo and half decent advice. She wasn't emotionally or mentally equipped to handle either of those options.

It didn't take long for her to feel a large hand gently wrap around her bicep. "What? I stopped," she grumbled, meekly peering at him from beneath her sadly drooping eyelids.

"Callie, you need to make the jump. If you're being pushed to the inside line you either break through them or jump the damn apex. You can't take a knee every time it gets too close."

"I can't." Callie looked down and lifted her foot off of the floor, shaking it loosely. "My ankle it uh- it's still sore."

"You hurt your ankle over six months ago. Did you see a doctor?"

"No."

"Why not"

"Because it didn't hurt that bad."

"Then stop complaining and jump the damned thing. I've seen you do it a million times. Stop thinking about it so hard. Get low; lift your legs off the floor, land. IN BOUNDS! You're not going to fall. Cleaver is not going to knock you down again-"

Callie scrunched her face up, stuck her tongue out at Mark and turned around before he could finish his sentence. By the time Mark could see his own error (mentioning the opposing skater), Callie was halfway across the track and catching a bottle of water that Monty had sent flying in her direction. She didn't have the time or the energy to acknowledge Mark and his infinite knowledge. Just because he was ready to build Callie back up to the athlete she used to be, didn't mean that she was.

And he, and Addison, and Arizona were all going to have to deal with the fact that she wasn't first string anymore. Callie twisted the top off of the water bottle and popped it into her mouth, tipping her head back and taking three long pulls. It didn't burn like the tequila she was craving, but it coaxed the emotions that the thought of Arizona had invoked back into dormancy. Hadn't it?

_God, I need to hit something._

Callie faced her teammates and scanned the benches. "Alright ladies. Up! We're going to play a game." A knot tightened in her abdomen. "Queen of the derby. Mouth guards in, and make sure your pads are secure."

* * *

The term "circling the drain" had a multitude of meanings. For a child, it could be the name of a precariously named ride at the water park. For a plumber, it could be indicative of work that needed to be done. And to Arizona Robbins – it meant all of those things and more. The blonde watched as a brown spiral adulterated the previously blemish free porcelain complexion of her sink. The coffee she had just wasted was creeping around the sides of the appliance's reservoir, causing the student to furrow her brow. The liquid's journey was taking longer than she expected, droplets falling into the abyss and gurgling before succumbing to the darkness of the drain.

In medical school, the term circling the drain was often used to describe patients who were raising their frail hands, preparing to rap their knuckles on the surface of heaven's door. Arizona had always found the term both offensive and insensitive, but she felt herself shedding that mindset. She wasn't entirely sure how she felt about coffee giving way to an epiphany, but she would have to revisit that issue later. The coffee – it helped her understand. Somehow.

Those patients that she had heard countless doctors and nurses talk about were clinging into a life that was no longer fit to support them. The storms that had blown through their lives scraped at and eroded every crack and every crevice, anything that could cradle them or offer sanctuary. The patients were fighting a losing battle, and the only thing left to do was enjoy the ride down. Embrace the child within – grab the proverbial water tube and hop on. It would be a release. Friends and family and doctors would sigh with relief because the patient made it to the end.

It could be fun. Or it could be painful. Scary. Exhausting.

The last of the coffee gurgled in protest as the drain beckoned it downwards, a droplet bouncing and morphing into a deformed heart before being swept away. The medical student stifled a snort at the image. The sentiment behind lives circling the drain could be applied to a sublet of her life. It wasn't a stretch, especially while she was still in the midst of her morning fog. The bitter liquid seemed to encapsulate what was left of her love life. The promise of resonance would tease her, only to be swept away by the time she blinked. She grumbled and released a string of indecipherable profanities into the otherwise silent kitchen and stared at the coffee that stained her usually immaculate sink. Her chances at romance had slipped down the drain. And of course it would leave a stain. A memory, a name, an image of an elusive, enchanting, frustrating, lovable, detestable Callie Torres. She'd have to scrub a little to get it out. To get _her _out.

"Yo, Phoenix."

Arizona blinked with purpose, her eyelids wiping away the evidence of emotion that had collected. She could do her scrubbing later.

"Please tell me that's not your way of telling me to rise from the ashes."

"What? No. That's so derivative and…a little dramatic, don't you think?"

She turned around to face her roommate, who was leaning against the opposite wall with his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of the sweatpants he slept in. Her shoulders rose and fell without conviction and she shook her head slowly. Was her disappointment, her anger, or her sadness over the lack of resolution with Callie unwarranted? She didn't think so.

"Nick…"

"This is a situation, isn't it? This is another Joanne situation."

Arizona shrugged once more as she observed the anxiety rising in her best friend. "No," she finally lied – attempting to keep him from going off into frenzy.

"Bull."

Arizona frowned as Nick pushed himself off of the wall and closed the distance in between them. His eyes met hers and he set his jaw, staring at her until she had no choice but to confess. She averted her gaze, but his intense staring was burning holes in her skin and she threw her hands up in defeat.

"It's not like Joanne. It's the same – but it's different, okay?" She paused a beat, wondering if he was going to try and make light of the situation before she could elaborate. Arizona sighed when she saw his eyes soften, and she knew that he was in listening mode. He would not only listen, but he would pull the information out of her if he needed to. It would be less painless for her to come clean now, than struggle against his strange powers. "With Joanne…she just decided that she didn't want me. It took her two years to get tired of me, and hey, I'd say that's pretty good considering I'm a career oriented control freak with a fear of emotional commitment and what she called a questionable affinity for pastels but Callie…she didn't have enough time to figure it out. She knows that I like chocolate, and she knows that you and Tim are my best friends. She knows that I'm a medical student. And that was what? Enough for her to realize that I'm not relationship material?"

Arizona snapped her mouth shut when she noticed Nick bobbing and weaving through the air…dodging the quick and dangerous movements of her hands as they violently thrashed through the air during her tangent. She quickly dropped her hands to her sides and winced, almost apologetically at the man.

"It's not you," he tried, pulling her reluctant form into his arms for a brief hug. "She plays a sport that involves getting hit by several women at once – she's clearly messed up." He chuckled and took a step back. "And you – you're…well you're a little messed up too but you look really cute all the time and I just forgot what else I was going to say. I figured it out, though. You're so cute she'd lose track of her thoughts and that can be pretty intimidating to people who aren't used to it."

"That's _you_." Arizona rolled her eyes at Nick and gently hit him in the chest. "Just because you're in love with me doesn't mean she is…or that she'll ever even like me enough to try."

"You know what? I'm calling in reinforcements." He pushed his way past her to wash his hands in the sink, for reasons Arizona wasn't sure she wanted to know – and continued talking, "Don't you have class in about an hour? Go get dressed. I'll call Teddy and make a bulk comfort food order."

"No. Then I'm going to get fat and no one will love me and I'll be stuck with you for the rest of my life," she pouted, smiling slightly at her own joke.

"That's the spirit! Go get dressed!"

Arizona squealed when Nick's hand swatted at her backside, and she jumped into action.

As she ran to her bedroom to get dressed, she briefly wondered why everyone she had ever met insisted on calling her perky. Nick was the perky one, he always had been. She was just lucky enough to have some of his cheer rub off on her.

* * *

"Callie." A voice demanded Callie's attention in a low, distinct register. "Callie," the woman tried again, setting her half empty glass on the bistro table. There was no change in Callie's expression, or in the focus of her attention, and Addison decided it was time to wrap her words around her friend's consciousness and reel her in. When Callie got into a daze there was only one way to snap her out of it. Addison jutted her foot forward and grunted quietly as the toe of her pumps connecting with Callie's unsuspecting shin.

"Bitch!" Callie snapped, rubbing her sore leg under the table. "What was that for?"

"You've been staring at me and then into space for the past five minutes."

"Huh, oh. Have I?" Callie was incredulous.

"Mhm. Should I be scared or flattered? I'm leaning towards scared because I made you that offer once in college and you politely declined so – "

"I'm sorry," she quickly interjected.

"Cal, what's going on?"

"You were chewing on your straw."

"Lots of people do."

"Arizona bit her straw."

"Again, lots of people do."

"But she does it in a way that's…you hold it between your teeth on the left side of your mouth."

"Where are you going with this, weirdo?"

"She holds it on the right side of her mouth. She keeps her lips parted, almost like she's smiling." Callie's voice was soft, almost nostalgic in essence.

"You miss her, is that what you're saying?"

"No." Callie pouted and shifted uncomfortably in attempt to dodge her friend's knowing glance. "Yes," she finally admitted, and dropped her head down so her forehead was pressed against the surface of the table.

"I thought we agreed that you'd give this a try."

"I did! I tried."

"You ran the moment she took a step towards some kind of commitment."

"I didn't _run._ I – deflected."

"You're not the kind to run from or be scared of commitment," Addison added thoughtfully, "Cleaver really did a number on you, didn't she?"

Callie shrugged. "I'm not afraid of commitment. I'm a freaking committee!"

"I know," Addison commented. Callie's inflection was indicative of an oncoming rant, and she wanted to remain as silent as possible in order to give Callie the space to work through her issues out loud.

"I wanted her. I want her. But I won't. Ooooh no." She shook her head animatedly. "I wanted George so badly that I almost married him. In college! I wanted…you know who just as badly and look what happened there. I gave everything I had to them." Her eyes searched the table for her drink, something to keep her throat in fully functional ramble condition. When they fell on the form of her own empty glass, she grabbed Addison's and took a few long, fast pulls of the mysterious – oh wait – vodka and ice filled cup. "I needed that," she croaked, fighting through the burn that was slipping over the back of her tongue and down her throat.

"I can tell," the older woman observed, nodding for Callie to continue.

"I want things so badly that I just…abandon myself in the pursuit."

"Did you work that out on your own?"

"No. My dad used to tell me all the time that it would get me into trouble. And it's true Monty. I dive into things. I jump and I land in a forest full of angry bears ready to rip me apart. They don't even realize that I'm all out of honey to give. I want her. I want Arizona, so I ran. The other way."

"You hurt her before she could hurt you."

Callie nodded noncommittally but remained silent.

"You do know how messed up that is, don't you?"

"I wasn't trying to hurt her. I don't trust myself. I'm being cautious."

"You're not a cautious person, Callie. I know you've been trying since Cleaver but that's not you."

"Maybe it is now."

"You're built for breaking solid walls and jumping apexes and being with the people you want to be with."

"I'm not!" Callie was quickly growing frustrated – either by the truths each statement held or by her inability to accept them. "Maybe I was once. When I crashed on sofas and gave up my trust fund and considered marrying a guy in ROTC who didn't even come up to my shoulders. I'm not her anymore. I can't be. I don't jump. I won't jump. I can't take the impact."

"You won't always fall."

"I always fall. That's how I got here. Broke, alone! Drinking vodka out of water glasses at two in the afternoon."

"The vodka was mine actually. And you wouldn't be alone. You had a hot medical student waiting to play doctor with you. She even jumped first and you –"

"Shut up."

"No, Callie. Nevada is good for you."

"Arizona."

"See? It bugs you when I say her name wrong. You need to apologize to her."

"No."

"I'm not dropping this. If my trip to LA taught me anything it's that you need to –"

"If you're not dropping this – I'll drop it for you." Callie stood up and dramatically pushed her chair back. She shoved her hand into her pocket and pulled out a few crumbled bills before throwing them on the table. "I'll see you at practice tonight. Probably off skates since I'm going home and drinking."

"Don't be mad at me for being right!" Addison called after her retreating friend – but was only given an obscene hand gesture in reply.

* * *

**AN: **Not a neat resolution this time. As always, thanks for reading - reviews are welcome. Sorry for the delay, school started back up for me. Next chapter already in the works! xo


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